Steam
by Luna-k
Summary: In which America and Japan both come to a realization, a smooshy boy/boy romance is begun, and dumplings are eaten.  An Ameripan fic that gives me joy to write it, so I figured I would share it with the internet.
1. An Awkward Start

A/N: Well, I've never actually shared my fanfiction with the internet, but here goes nothin'. There are a couple of swears in here but nothing major. The only other thing that one might find objectionable so far is boys kissing and ogling each other, so I do hope I have rated this correctly. I felt like it took me a little to get into the writing but I like where I have gone with it so far. I hope it gives somebody as much pleasure reading it as writing it has given me.

Japan sat at the table, eyes downcast, staring fervently into his tea. The morning had been quite awkward so far. America wasn't leaving, seeming to have made himself at home. He sat across the table fiddling with his glasses, looking oddly bare without them, hair strewn messily over his face. Japan just didn't know what to say; he was an ancient country, not used to being in this sort of situation, not thinking himself the type. But at least outwardly, America was unperturbed by Japan's awkward silence.

"So," he began in between obscenely large bites of a bagel, "You have any coffee?"

"Uh—" Japan stammered briefly in an effort to decide how to address him properly, "I have tea—Its better for you." He offered, standing to retrieve it.

"Ugh." America stuck out his tongue, "I didn't drink that stuff when England made it and I'm not starting now."

"Well, is there anything else you would like to drink?" Japan asked, hoping to escape to his kitchen.

"Nah, bro. Imma go chill with Canada anyway. I'm trying to teach that guy to live! Hes always just keepin' to himself bein' all polite and shit. Kinda like—" he paused, momentarily more self aware than usual, "—well, you I guess." He finished, laughing awkwardly. And like it often was in America's presence, Japan simply had no clue how to respond.

* * *

><p>He didn't know why he'd told Japan he had plans, but the guy was just making him so nervous. America could never read that guy. The night before, Japan had been more open with him than he could ever remember. Now it seemed that they could communicate even less than they ever had. Did Japan remember what happened? He truly wasn't sure whether he wanted him to or not. He felt the color rise to his cheeks as he remembered, trying to dismiss his stray thoughts. He bit his lip. <em>Don't think about that. <em>He scolded himself. Maybe he'd call England. Nothing sobered a man up faster than having to spend time with England.

* * *

><p>Italy wouldn't stop talking, but that was normal. Germany had long since learned to tune out his ramblings, but had made the mistake of engaging with him on this particular day. Japan secretly enjoyed watching them bounce off each other. It was comforting and familiar.<p>

"What are you talking about? How many times do I have to tell you? Pasta is STILL not a food group!" Germany argued.

"But germany, what else is there?"

Japan allowed the noise to fade in to the background. He wasn't there to participate in their antics, just for a little steadying company. Japan was confused, very confused. He'd never had a problem with those types of relationships. He'd long suspected a certain two ex-axis members of it. But with America? Sure, they got along fine now, but—but, he didn't know what. He knew he hadn't felt that way in a very long time. He had hated him once, and the feelings had been very much mutual. Could his feelings truly have changed so much?

* * *

><p>"America…" England adjusted his tie, stiffening, uncomfortable, "Are you telling me you're a fag? I mean, one France is really enou—"<p>

"What!" America interrupted, "No way man! I'm just sayin…, well, I don't know, but I know I didn't say that."

"Well, good then." England huffed, "What is it you are saying? If there's a point to this inane conversation I would appreciate that you reach it."

"if you're gonna be like that you can shove it, alright?" America snapped back gracelessly, He crossed his arms over his chest frowning petulantly.

"If you're going to act like a child, I guess I will. Bloody infant. Come on fellas." He beckoned, waving to something America could not see, and took his leave in a huff, complaining to the "air".

America dropped his head to the table, frustrated and embarrassed. Who was he supposed to talk to about this? It wasn't as if anything huge happened. Some alcohol had been drunk, some potentially embarrassing things said, but not much actually done. A caress or two had been shared, but maybe he was blowing it out of proportion. A caress to the face is really just as easily a drunken touch to the cheek. What he couldn't get out of his head wasn't the feel of Japans skin though, it was his eyes. Those normally dead pan eyes came alive in a way he had rarely seen. It had made him feel something he didn't know how to interpret. _Those sparkling chocolate colored eyes_… He shook himself from his thoughts. That wasn't him, he wasn't any France. What did he care what type of brown Japans eyes were? HE should be kickin' ass and taking names. He was America after all! Heroes didn't have time for inner turmoil and deep thought. That's not what America is all about, at least, he really hoped not.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, turning in surprise.

"Oh. Hey there Tonny."

His small alien friend stood behind him quietly, looking as worried as a little gray "man" can reasonably look. Squinting his big black eyes at his friend, he received a pat on the top of his bulbous bald head.

"Don't worry about me bud," he gave his best shot at his usual cocky grin, "I'm just a bit hung over." Tony slipped into the chair next to America's.

* * *

><p><strong>So, italicized flash back time!<strong>

_America felt Japans soft skin beneath his fingers. Running a thumb tentatively across his bottom lip, Japan reached up and met the hand with his own. In that moment, whether he was going to pull his hand from his face seemed like the only thing in the world to America, but Japan didn't. He simply let his own hand rest over it._

"_Japan.." he breathed, searching fruitlessly for the words he wanted, "I—"_

"_America," Japan interrupted, "Would you call me by my true name?"_

"_Your true name?" America squinted his tipsy baby blue eyes._

"_Nihon."_

"_Nihon?"_

"_Hai" he nodded, letting his hand slip down to his side. America followed suit, letting his drop and come to rest on the lapel of Japan's robe. Wrapping his fingers around the silken brown cloth, he used it as leverage __to pull Japan closer. America held him there, lips only inches apart, but unmoving. He was unsure as to what to do next, but he knew he didn't want to lean away. He felt arms wrap around his waist, the __smaller country tucking his face into the crux between neck and shoulder. America ran his fingers through the raven colored hair and closed his eyes._

"_Nihon." He sighed contentedly, savoring the sound of the man's name. He nuzzled back against him, trying to look at his face. His eyes were close, asleep. America could feel his warm steady breath against his __throat. He thought it might have easily been the best thing he'd ever felt in his life. He slowly leaned back, taking care to not jostle Japan, coming to rest on the floor, Japan's serene face placed lightly on his __shoulder, hand delicately placed on his chest. He laced his own fingers through Japan's and drifted off to sleep._


	2. Cream and Sugar

Japan's memory of waking up in America's arms was disarmingly pleasant. The first thing he had noticed upon waking was the warm hand wrapped around his own, and the feeling of breath on his forehead. He wasn't usually the type to drink so much, and he tried to blame the encounter on that one factor; but that simply could not explain why in that very moment, he still longed to be so close to America again, to be pulled near, wanted. The feel of America's hands on him had seemed so gentle, loving even. He had never known him to be so gentle. He needed to clear his mind, to bring his usually ordered thoughts together. He took deep breaths, attempting to empty his mind. He had to work much harder than usual to maintain a firm calm. Ever even keeled, he wasn't used to getting so flustered. He had said things to America that he had never said to anyone before. He shouldn't have accepted such a foolish invitation, drinking like some out of control European nation. But if given the offer again, he knew he would accept it all over again. He knew what he wanted, he just didn't want to want it. He didn't understand America. What had such an odd interaction meant to him? Would he have acted that way with anyone else if they had been there? What was it exactly that they had done? It wasn't a hug, he knew it was more than that. He needed to find out how America felt about him. But he obviously couldn't just blurt out an awkward question like that.

* * *

><p>America had confided in Tonny. After all, America was really the only one who understood him anyway. Who would he tell? Tonny gave good, if somewhat naïve of earthly ways advice. America was left with a few things to ponder, the most important being what had truly gone on between them. The second, how he felt about whatever it was. And the third (which he felt was the hardest to execute), what he wanted to do about it.<p>

They had just been spending time together, nothing unusual. The only difference had been the alcohol. Japan had never been much of a drinker. As the night had gotten later, defenses had lowered, tongues loosened. They spoke more bluntly, honestly. It had gotten into more intimate conversation, unusually personal. Japan has seemed to sweet and open, not like he usually saw him. Maybe they had just finally become real friends again. He could have shared just as personal feelings with Greece, Italy, or Germany over the years. He wanted to doubt that, but he certainly didn't want to admit such an embarrassing jealousy, even to himself. Maybe he had drunkenly overstepped when he caressed his face, but he had responded in kind, wrapping his thin arms around his waist. America couldn't say that he didn't know why he'd reached out like that; he knew it would be a lie. He had wanted to kiss him, intended to even. His nerves had failed him, stopping frozen. Japan had rescued him from his immobility with the decision to wrap his arms around him. Then he fell asleep. He ached to know what Japan would have done if he had really kissed him, what could have happened. But if he had wanted a kiss he certainly could have got one, America had had gotten them most of the way there already.

He rubbed his temples, realizing how much energy he was putting into wondering about that. It was becoming impossible to tell himself that he didn't know what he wanted. They had known each other a long time. Long for America, that is, probably not for Japan. He had always been fond of him; at least, he had certainly started out fond of him. He remembered the days they first go to know each other.

He and England had tried to be welcoming, inclusive; but the man had always seemed to hold back, preferring his own house to traveling. It had been bothersome to him at first, Japans unwillingness to join him out in the world, but once he really had, peace only lasted so long—less than a hundred years. But they had been friends once, and were friends again, whatever had happened during that hiatus. It wasn't uncommon for countries relationships to change. Take France and England for example, one day they would be trying to kill each other, and the next France would be proposing marriage (literally). And as he pondered that he knew exactly who to ask about his dilemma: France! Was he tactful? No! But neither was America. If anyone would have advice about something like this it would be the country who had spent the grand majority of his life in a purple cape. He didn't even have to face him; a phone call would be sufficient (and significantly less embarrassing). He made his way to the phone, stealing himself for awkwardness as he dialed. Even the ring sounded awkward to America.

"'Ello?" France answered.

"Hey France. How's it hangin' man?" America began, struggling for normalcy.

"Umm, it is hanging fine. America? How are you?"

"Yah, it's me—America, I'm uh-, I'm good, pretty good…" He trailed off.

"…" He could almost hear the awkward impatience on the other end of the phone. They both sat in silence. "Is everything alright America? Silence coming from you worries me."

"Y-Yah, everything's awesome, as usual." He said much too quickly, "So, remember Japan?"

"Is that a joke America?"

"Ha-ha, yah. 'course I am, I mean it is, of course you know Japan." America was more nervous than he thought he would be.

"Well, ma petit Chou d'idiot, what is it? What about Japan?"

He no longer knew what to say.

"I think the dude came onto me." So he lied.

"Well well, then…" France reacted, sounding pleased, "I always suspected he swung that way, hehehe"

America was officially creeped out by France. He deeply regretted making the phone call.

"Did you accept his advances?"

America's voice caught in his throat, this was his chance at genuine advice (and maybe a little mockery). He wasn't sure what he was in for, but he knew it would all have been for nothing if he hung up now.

"A little—but, I mean, nothing weird happened or whatever." He felt a little nauseous.

"Did you make love?"

"Did you not just hear me? Nothing _weird_ happened, 'kay!" He said much too harshly.

"There is nothing weird about two men entwined in the throes of passio-"

_CLICK_!

America decided he could handle this himself. He collapsed into an armchair, shielding his eyes with his hands; thinking things through was exhausting! And like that, he realized exactly what he needed to do: something! To take action! Who was he, England? To Hell with pondering, he was America, Damnit! And that meant throwing caution to the wind and making it his bitch.

* * *

><p>Japan sat, quietly tending to his garden. He had finally achieved some relief from his nerves. He knew he would, America was not so <em>anything<em> as to keep someone as calm as him unbalanced after all.

"Ni—uh, Japan?" Or so he had thought anyway, until hearing his voice made his stomach try to climb over his lungs and lay siege his throat. He slowly turned his tense frame to see an almost angry looking America staring down at him. He rose to his feet as steadily as he could manage. Was America glaring at him? It certainly seemed as if he was. He hadn't seen that look on his face for a long time.

"Mr. America, are you—"

"Just shut it a sec, okay?" America snapped, attempting to soften his final words as he grabbed onto the shorter man's collar, lifting him ever so slightly, as if to get a better look at him.

Japan was more than a little confused. What was America's problem? What was that weird face he was making? Was he angry about what had happened between them? America looked down into his perplexed (maybe lightly frightened?) face; God, how he hoped that wasn't a look of fear. He wanted to confirm what he was pretty sure he already knew. Those few seconds seemed like an eternity of nervousness to Japan, but to America it felt like rushing. Like those few seconds in front of the subway car you're not sure is the right one. You know the doors are about to close and you've got to make a choice.

"America, if—"

It was now or never. America knew he couldn't let him say anything that would cause him one more second's deliberation. He was tired of deliberating, that's why he was there. In one smooth movement he released his collar and slid his hand back, wrapping it around the nape of his neck, his fingers feeling the small smooth ends of his hair and pressed him forward, tilting his lips up to meet his own.

Japan flinched slightly in surprise at the first moment their lips met, but quickly went slack, allowing himself to adjust to being kissed. He couldn't get his mind off the feeling of America's strong warm hand on the back of his neck, the other still resting at his side. Japan wasn't sure if encouraging the kiss was wise, but he was absolutely positive that he wanted to, wrapping an arm around America's neck, the other half involuntarily grabbing hold of the front of his shirt. America took this as permission to pull him in closer against him, allowing his tongue to begin to explore the other's mouth. Japan tasted sort of like vanilla. _Why vanilla?_ He wondered. Why did the man have to even taste so damn good? Japan finally truly got his mind to go blank for the first time that day as he got to feel the other warm body so closely up against his own, mouths enlocked in a passionate kiss. When all of the sudden, America released him, pulling his face away. Japan felt dazed, sort of ruffled all over, America watched the pink spread across his cheeks, feeling the heat in his own and realizing he probably looked the same.

"So." He began, just trying to get his foot in the theoretical door, "that's what I was trying to do last night." Having just stuffed his tongue into the man's mouth he figured he should have the guts to muster up a little honesty.

"I-I wanted you to." Japan admitted quietly, averting his dark eyes. America felt himself smile an embarrassingly large grin. He had kissed Japan, Japan had wanted him to. He had the answers to his questions. Japan took a small step towards him, making eye contact again, having regained his usual composure.

"Would you like to come inside America? I know you don't like tea, but—"

"I could… give tea a shot…" he bit his lip. He wasn't used to acquiescing to somebody else's wishes, but he thought this might just be worth it. America thought Japan looked pleased, but he wasn't positive. Japan was always hard to read, especially for someone with the subtlety of a hurricane. Japan reached out a graceful hand towards him. America swallowed, biting the inside of his lip harder, and grabbed the outstretched hand.

"You kinda' like me, huh?" Like I said: the subtlety of a hurricane. Japan blushed, not appreciating his bluntness. He turned and led him through the doors to his house, releasing it once they crossed the thresh-hold. They walked in silence towards the kitchen.

"What kind of tea would you like" Japan turned to ask.

"Uh…" He scratched his head, "Somethin' sweet, I guess? Can you put cream in it?"

"I can." Japan smiled slightly, looking America up and down, "Although you do not usually with Japanese tea." He figured getting him to drink tea at all was a large enough victory, cream or no cream.


	3. It's Different

The tea had been made in silence. Comfortable for Japan, grating for America, the ever-loud country. Japan sat down two cups on the low square table. America looked down at it slightly warily. Having lived with England he knew better than to trust that cream and sugar was a safe buffer for the lackluster taste of the stuff. He felt Japan's eyes on him expectantly, so he picked up his cup and took a sip. It wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible. He could drink it if it made Japan smile like he did after his own initial sip. He liked the way his eyes crinkled ever so slightly when he smiled like that. Japan took a sip too.

"So, you like it then?" He looked hopeful.

"Yah, I like it." His voice sounded oddly loud in the quiet house, but in reality it was far quieter than it usually was.

"I'm glad." Japan smiled again, America's heart fluttered in his chest. "Would you like to…Would you like to kiss me again?"

America practically tried to propel himself over the low table. "Yes!"

"Maybe crawl around instead?" Japan laughed, emboldened by the situation. America shuffled himself around the table to practically launch himself towards Japan, grasping him firmly by the arm and kissing him strongly. Japan, being knocked back by America's aggressive kiss, took a surprised moment to adjust to it, easing into the leaning position that they found themselves in. Allowing the parts of him not supported by the other man to lean on his free hand. He liked kissing America, it was not the most graceful of actions, especially in this slightly precarious position; but both times he had done it the action had a remarkable sweetness to it. The searching, wanting affection of his kisses made Japan's guard simply fall away, Allowing his mind to and body to relax and be affected by another. America's lips were surprisingly soft and supple. America, misjudging the nature of their position, continued to lean into him, nipping lightly at Japan's bottom lip. He pressed forward, their bodies beginning to meet. But America had, growing over eager, put too much weight on the slighter nation, causing his right arm to collapse behind him and fall back onto the floor. A surprised

America, falling forward over him, landed on his elbows to in an attempt to support his jolted frame. Looking down at Japan, usually the picture of composure, now looking dazed and surprised, his hair mussed, and a small strand of saliva glistening on his bottom lip; America couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

"Uh, sorry man" he said, hoisting himself up onto his hands, pushing himself back into a sitting position. Japan felt suddenly quite odd, knowing that other than the initial clumsy fall, the feeling of America on top of him had been far from unpleasant. His whole body felt the radiating warmth of desire for another.

"Its quite alright" He assured, realizing that he should probably sit all the way up. "I din't really mind being like that too much." He added more quietly, hoping it didn't sound as absurd as it felt.

America could feel himself blush. He certainly hadn't minded the feeling either. His elbows felt a bit abused but the feeling it had elicited in the rest of him was nothing but amazing. Was Japan's admission of a lack of displeasure tacit permission to get back on him? America wanted to think that clambering onto him and pressing him passionately to the floor would have been an appropriate response to the statement, but he had a feeling that it was not. He was surprised enough that Japan had been open to his advances so far, he figured trying to mount him was not proper procedure with someone like Japan. He was almost just as surprised by himself, having quickly surrendered to this odd new feeling. But once he had doubtlessly confirmed what it was that he was feeling, he didn't see a reason to deny himself. He looked at Japan hungrily, unsure how to proceed. Was he supposed to say something, or could their kiss just be picked up where they had left it?

"So, you wanna do that again?" He asked, having not gained any tact in the delicate situation.

"Kiss?"

America nodded.

"How do you feel about me America?" Japan asked tentatively, holding his gaze more firmly. America swallowed, unsure of how to respond, wondering what the correct answer was.

"Like…I would like to keep kissing you?" He offered. Seeing Japan's reaction he was dubious as to whether that was a good answer. Japan looked down slightly, appearing to have become deep in thought. America didn't care for silences like this, they made him uncomfortable. His stomach was tightening with an emerging anxiety.

"But," Japan began again, coming to meet his eyes, "Why do you want that?"

America felt like his heart had hit the bottom of his stomach. Maybe he had pushed this situation to a place that Japan regretted. "Do you not want that?" He asked with trepidation.

"No, I-I do want that.." He broke off, averting his gaze once again, black hair falling into his eyes, "I just wanted to know what makes _you _want that." America was flooded with relief, but never the less, that relief did not seem to be lending itself to finding the words Japan wanted him to express.

"I don't know." He figured starting out honestly was better than not starting at all, however awkward it might seem. "I really like your eyes, and I mean, you're really pretty." _Pretty?_ He was immediately wildly unsure as to whether you were ever supposed to call a man pretty. But that was the truth, America did think he was pretty, very pretty. Beautiful even?

"So, it's because you find me pleasing?"

_Ugh_, leave it to Japan to put it like that. Did he find him _pleasing_? America internally repeated to himself. Yes, he certainly did find Japan pleasing, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer yes or no. If he was blunt with himself he knew that it was more than finding someone aesthetically pleasing, more than wanting to touch his soft skin. What the more was exactly was a little more elusive to him. Japan's expression had hardened with anticipation of an answer, searching his face fore clues.

"I do find you… pleasing" he paused, turning the words over on his tongue, "but I also, I mean, I like hanging out with you too and stuff." He added, somewhat self-consciously, "Do you find _me _pleasing?" He returned the question, running his hand over the back of his head. Japan nodded, still looking unnecessarily serious.

"Yes, I do. And I also enjoy spending time with you you. Do you care for me?" He tucked his hands into his lap. America finally realized what it was that Japan wanted him to be saying. It made him feel odd, no longer lustful. He looked the Asian nation up and down. He knew he was fond of him, he wanted the best for him, that's certainly caring for someone. Whether or not he cared for Japan wasn't a question for him, but whether that caring was the kissing, and loving, and holding kind of caring was a recent development. But looking into the dark velvety pools of his eyes, he did not need to ponder it. He hadn't gone there only for superficial reasons, it wasn't only a question of attraction.

"I care for you."

Japan's face finally softened, smiling lightly, "Yes."

"Yes, what?" America asked, confused.

"Yes to your question, I do want to do that again."

America smiled.

* * *

><p>Japan nuzzled gently against America's throat, kissing lightly at the soft vulnerable flesh. America leaned happily into the embrace, letting his hands trail down Japan's chest, then waist, reaching slowly to work a undoing the sash of his kimono. When quite shockingly, he received a stinging slap to the hand. He jerked back, letting out a small pained noise.<p>

"What the hell man?"

"You were being inappropriate." Japan scolded, frowning slightly. America felt at a loss.

"And what were you being sucking at my neck?"

Japan reddened, "I wasn't! It was a little kissing. I was trying to be affectionate. You were trying to undress me." He admonished him, straightening up.

"What's so wrong with that?" he asked. So he had been trying to undress him; but he didn't see where that became a problem. Since when was he so uptight? _Okay_, America had to admit to himself, he had always been pretty up tight. But he had figured that might have gone the way side with someone whose tongue had been in his mouth.

"You were being vulgar, I don't see how having kissed a few times makes you think undressing me is appropriate…What is it you take me for exactly?"

Now America was absolutely baffled, Japan looking at him like he'd killed his puppy just because he had tried to take his clothes off a little. It's not like he'd tried to flip him over and climb on top of him… Although having briefly considered doing so, he was infinitely grateful that he had done no such thing.

"Are you shy or something?"

"No, America," Japan responded, now with slight exasperation creeping into his voice, "You just can't do that sort of thing in such a sudden forward manner." Japan tightened his fists in his lap, trying intently to get his position understood. America found himself becoming embarrassingly side-tracked, Japan was so cute when he was mad he realized: the way his cheeks flushed, the way he gripped his hands, and sat up unnecessarily straight, but never quite mustered the appearance of someone incensed with anger. He looked adorably frustrated more than he looked mad. America couldn't help but smile.

"Don't be mad." America said affectionately as he leaned forward to give Japan a sweet chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, "No more trying to undress ya', honest!" His playful act of reconciliation elicited a small smile from Japan.

"I am not mad. I was just frustrated that you weren't understanding me. I didn't mean to be rude about it."

"No worries." America replied lightly. "Hey, I'm sort of hungry. You wanna' get something to eat?"

"That would be nice." Japan nodded, the situation normalizing. They had a few bumps and false starts but America was determined to not let it deter him. He rose to his feet, readjusting to standing and then extended a hand, helping Japan to his feet.

"My place or yours?"

"Well, since we are already at my house, there are dumplings quite near here that we could go get; I usually can't resist them myself."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

><p>The evening had come and the weather was perfect for their small walk to retrieve dinner. America had begun the walk with an attempt at holding Japan's hand, but was promptly rebuffed. Apparently that was not appropriate in public. The dumplings were certainly worth the walk. Unlike certain other parts of the Japanese diet (anything uncooked that once swam, or anything that once possessed tentacles or a blow hole), dumplings were something that America understood and appreciated. Plus, he took a private pleasure in watching Japan eat them.<p>

As they made their way back towards Japan's house, choosing to make easy small talk, America found himself almost studying Japan; noticing his own interest in the small details of his voice, the way he walked, the way he ate. So much so in fact, that he was entirely unaware of the curb that they were stepping off of. All of a sudden he found himself sprawling forward on the ground, muddy, harshly snapped out of his little moment of revery.

"America!" Japan had exclaimed, reaching an arm out to catch him, but instead had been pulled along with him. After a moment of stunned silence America laughed, flicking a bit of mud at the disheveled Japan next to him.

"Sorry."

Japan didn't have it in him to be disgruntled, he made and attempted to wipe the mud off his legs but it was futile. And even more so for America who was thoroughly sullied, having taken the more dramatic fall.

"Well, I guess this kinda' puts a kink in our plans, huh?" America jokingly commented as they both righted themselves.

"I have baths back at my house, we can go there and wash off. I'm sure I have something I can make us to eat afterwards." Japan offered, tucking his hair behind his ear with a muddy hand. America nodded.

"Sounds like a plan." He said, beginning to walk in the direction of Japan's home. Japan gave the dumplings a single mourning glance before he followed after him.

Once back at the house, Japan led the way towards the springs of an outdoor bath out back. The walk home had been less pleasant thatn the one of their departrure, both becoming cold rapidly, the mud drying as they made their way back. Japan was relieved and comforted by the warm steamy atmosphere as he began untying his sash. America stared at him, confused and unsure.

"What are you doing?" He asked, trying not to sound too clueless.

"Undressing" Japan answered simply, beginning to pull an arm out of his kimono sleeve. America did not understand the rules there, now he was sure of it.

"I thought you said that was inappropriate." He attempted to interject casually. Japan pauses, turning back to face him again, mid de-clothing.

"We are taking a bath. You have to take your clothes off to do that. It is different." He said, not understanding America's confusion.

"Oh." He mustered in response. _When in Rome_, he thought, beginning to unbutton his shirt, and letting it fall to the damp warm ground. Japan slid off his kimono, now bare from the waist up, as he folded it and set it off to the side. The sudden exposure of creamy skin, seen through the lingering steam and pleasant heat was striking. Japan thought he felt eyes on him, attempting to quell the slight embarresment and emerging pleasure that came from the feeling of America's eyes on him. He felt quite warm somewhere below his belly button. He let his mind stray from the feeling, instead focusing on the warm condensation collecting all over his arms and chest. And, stripping of his pants, he was finally free of his mud caked clothing. Grabbing a towel he headed for the bath.

America couldn't help but watch him as he lay the towel on the edge of the bath and lowered himself in; the wet skin of his legs disappearing into the hot water. He continued to undress himself, feeling even more relieved than Japan had been when he was no longer encased in his cracked mud prison. Not minding the nakedness, but still surprised at Japan's matter of fact manner around it, especially in light of their earlier interaction, he guessed he would just have to take his word for it that this was very different. Making it to the edge of the water, he knelt down and threw his legs over the side, adjusting them momentarily to the heat before he slid all the way in. The water was amazing. He felt it absorb all the sickly feelings of cold and dirt on skin, replacing it with an all encompassing heat that relaxed his sore limbs.

Japan was already settled into the water, leaning back against the side, relaxed.

"Is this good?" Japan asked, looking slightly flushed from the heat of the bath.

"Mhm." America nodded, letting himself lean his head back towards the stone edge. Japan's eyes mindlessly drifted towards his exposed neck, the light skin dampened by steam and sweat. The view made him smile to himself, becoming aware that since the new developments in their relationship he was probably allowed to look. He let his eyes fall to the vulnerable shallow between his clavicle bones, to admire the strong lines of his pink shoulders. America rolled his head forward, meeting Japan's gaze, unwittingly pulling it from its previous activity.

"I should fall in the mud more often." He joked, wetting his hands to run them through his blonde hair, making it fall damp and loose against his face. Somehow, Japan felt that his aqua eyes were even more lovely in the steamy dark, standing out against the night, catching light just so when he moved them.

"You don't have to fall to come here." Japan said, filling the comfortable silence. America just smiled, scooting forward, closed, taking the opportunity to splash Japan gently.

"Its weird to have dry hair in the bath." He said. He moved forward even more then, dropping his hands into the water to lift them out in to the colder air and run them through Japan's smooth dark hair as he had done to his own. But he did it more gently, making sure he did not pull it.

"See?" He let his hands fall back into the dark warm water, "Doesn't that feel better?"

It did feel better, hair becoming wetly matted to his skin, brushed back away from his face. Japan allowed himself to move forward slightly.

"Mhm." He agreed, nodding, leaning his body forward, close enough to feel the heat radiate from America's skin. America leaned in, closing the distance between them. He let his hands seek Japan's in the water, lacing them, unseen in the deep. The leaned against each other chastely, both enjoying the content gentle feeling of their knees touching, hands entwined, an arm resting brushing gently against the other's. Japan could not help but hope to himself that they could just stay like that, no need to deny themselves the sweet warm assurance of the dependable meeting of tired skin.

"I love you America." Japan offered up to the hot night and sheltering water, not looking up fro, his view of America's shoulder. America let his chin rest against Japan's wet warm forehead, hair silky against his lips.

"I love you too…" he breathed, "…Nihon. Right? That's what you want me to call you , yah?"

He felt him nod, giving a small guttural affirmation. America closed his eyes and wrapped his loose warm arms around Japan's waist, turning his legs to the side as to be able to close the last space between them. He felt Japan's chest press against his own when he breathed.

"So, this isn't inappropriate?" he teased. He could swear he felt Japan blush.

"It's different." He said, not minding the small embarrassment he felt creep up as he allowed himself enjoyment of the warm security of the embrace.

"It's different." America repeated.


	4. Proper Procedure

Eventually, feeling overheated from the potent mix of the hot water and America's body heat mingling with his own, Japan pulled gently out of the embrace, breathing in a refreshing breath in his new free space, his body regretting the cold that greeted it with the removal of its companion.

"What're you doing?" America inquired, also experiencing the shock of his flesh being without anything to press up against, his arms having nothing to hold.

"I'm too hot." Japan answered, wiping at the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. America twisted around, leaning back towards the other side of the bath, his torso emerging from the water as he reached to retrieve his towel for Japan; revealing a long thin scar that travelled down the otherwise clear skin of his upper body. As he grabbed the soft towel in his hands he felt warm fingers on his quickly cooling skin. America turned his head, surprised, hair in his eyes. Japan had pushed himself forward to reach out and trace the light scar lovingly and curiously with his thin fingers, pale in the moonlight. The contents of his eyes had long since been absorbed into the dark, but his face was thoughtful, almost questioning. America had paused momentarily, unsure of how to proceed.

"How did you get this?" Japan asked, moving his fingers gently.

"Uh," America swallowed, making a significant effort to speak gently, "I got it from—um, you actually." He finished, and attempted to lower himself back into the water to end the moment smoothly, but met resistance when Japan grasped him by the waist, pulling himself closer. He pressed his lips softly up against the white scar, kissing it gently. Then, looking to meet America's eyes, he allowed him to face him completely again as he slipped back into the water (forgetting completely about the towel). Japan kept his fingers on the scar beneath the water's surface; he smiled a small kind smile. America could not help but blush, having been kissed so sweetly on the old wound, Japan's fingers still comfortingly resting there.

"Does it hurt you ever?" Japan asked, searching America's face for honesty. He shook his head.

"No, not usually at least."

"That's good," Japan looked up at him, "It would be sad if it hurt you much."

America felt a moved fluttering in his stomach. He pulled Japan's hand up out of the water, planted a kiss on the limps fingers and smiled.

"I'm sure you have them too." He pulled Japan gently to him through the water by the hand he already held. "No need to think too much about it." He nuzzled him playfully. Japan happily let himself be pulled in, feeling America's nose rub against his cheek, his eyelashes briefly tickling his skin. This sweet and cuddly America was still new to Japan, but he certainly enjoyed it.

"America…?"

"Yes?"

"I'm still too hot." Japan admitted, trying to not damage America's feelings.

"Oh! Right, he-he." America released him, remembering to grab the towel. "Sorry. I'm your boyfriend though, so aren't I suppose to want to cuddle you and stuff?" he asked playfully.

"You're my… boyfriend?" Japan was surprised at the first use of the term, eyes widening briefly.

"Oh, uhh…" America reddened, "I mean, I had figured that, uh, just 'cause we like, we said I love you and there was kissing, and so I just had thought… I mean, unless you don't want me to be your boyfriend…"

"No, no!" Japan waved his arms emphatically, hoping to end America's awkward descent into rambling. "I do! You can be my boyfriend. I just had not really thought about it like that yet."

"Oh. Yah. That makes sense." America became visibly calmer, "It has only been a day since we first started to become like this—er—you know what I mean." He laughed awkwardly. Japan nodded, smiling larger than his usual refrained smile.

"So, what are boyfriends supposed to do?"

"Well," America began, becoming excited, "We're supposed to do the stuff we usually do: like watch movies, play video games, do fun stuff on holidays. Except now we also do other cool stuff: like kissing, and when we watch scary movies you should rest your head on my shoulder, and on Valentine's Day we buy each other stuff." America nodded in enthusiastic agreement with himself at what he felt was sage wisdom on the institution of boyfriend-dom.

"Oh. I see." Japan felt his list was oddly specific, but still thought that those things sounded pretty nice (even if America was actually the one who couldn't handle scary movies).

"Did you want to get out now?" America interrupted his consideration of boyfriend activities.

"hn?" he refocused.

"'cause you were too hot." America reminded him.

"Oh yes. I think that would be a good idea, thank you." Japan buried his face in the white towel, thoroughly drying it. He wrapped it around his waist and stood, pulling himself up over the side of a bath, landing to sit beside his own unused towel.

"Ah! You gave me your towel America! You need one still, you must use mine." He noticed, holding the towel out towards him, "I could have used my own."

"No, mine was closer. Plus, that's what boyfriends are supposed to do, right? Get things when you need them and all that." America said, accepting the remaining white cloth. He followed Japan's example and wrapped it around his hips before he stood and stepped up out of the bath. "And like helping you up, of course." America added, reaching a hand down for the still sitting Japan. He gratefully accepted it, rising to his feet. He saw Japan's gaze drift upwards and followed it with his own. He was met with a marvelous view of the black night sky, splattered with speckles of faraway lights.

"Pretty." America said, caught off guard by the sudden beauty.

"Mhm." Japan concurred, "I have always liked looking at the sky here." They hadn't yet let their hands separate as they admired the cosmos together.

* * *

><p>They had stood amongst the steam and the stars, content to just stare upwards, hand in hand. Their silences no longer held discomfort for them. They remained like that until Japan felt the last of the water on his skin dry, the steam no longer keeping his thin limbs warm.<p>

"Would you like to go inside now? I can make tea and I will find you some clothes you can wear. Then we can sleep." Japan smiled at him, eyes catching the starlight, "It is too late for you to try to go home. I would think that just staying over would be better, if you wanted to."

"Yah, thanks." America accepted the offer gladly, having already assumed that he would be staying the night.

"Let's go inside then and we can get dressed." Japan suggested. America bobbed his head sleepily.

"Clothes sound good right about now: warm." He commented as they made their way back towards the house.

"So, would you like something western style to wear, or would you like something Japanese style like I was wearing?"

"Honestly, what you were wearing looked really comfortable." America liked the idea of wrapping himself in something loose and warm for the night. "Oh wait," he remembered, pausing just outside the door, "What about today's clothes? Is it okay to just leave them out here?"

"We can retrieve them first thing, when they are dry." Japan stepped into his home, waiting to shut the door behind them until America followed him in.

The houses heat and dryness was a pleasant contrast to the damp outdoors. The wooden floor was unusually smooth on America's feet.

Japan left America to sit and enjoy his newly acquired cleanliness while he sought out clothes. America yawned, fiddling with his own fingers. Japan reappeared some quiet (other than the soft assuring sound of Japan's footsteps) minutes later. The doors slid open to reveal him, now dressed in a mute blue, holding what seemed like a ludicrous amount of amorphous cloth in his arms.

"That's not all one dude robe, is it?" America asked, internally regretting his choice.

"What? Dude robe? I just brought you a few choices of what might fit you best. Did you change your mind about what you wanted to wear to bed?" Japan asked, readjusting his arms to accommodate his load.

"Oh, cool. Nah, I didn't change my mind." America was relieved. He had no intention of cocooning himself to sleep. Japan lifted the bundle up in an awkward manner of presentation, seemingly expecting an informed opinion based on the jumble he held.

"Um. Which one should I take?"

"Mm, maybe this one!" Japan suggested. America thought he was attempting to showcase the yellow one.

"Sure, it'll fit?"

"These should all fit. This is the biggest, and it is yellow like your hair." The ending remark made America smile, his ego inflated by the attention.

"That sounds good then. Throw!"

"What?" Japan frowned.

"Throw it to me."

"Oh." Japan took a moment to untangle it from the others and then tossed it awkwardly towards him. It fluttered down rapidly and landed half on the table. America pulled it into order, stretching it out for a better look, then pulled on each part, discovering he quite enjoyed the soft feeling of the loose yellow fabric on his skin.

"I'm beat. Where's your bed?"

"It's in the other room." Japan gestured with his nearly free hand. _Did he want to share the bed?_ Japan wondered. He knew that he would like to, but suggesting it seemed far too awkward, he didn't want to appear over eager. "Did you want me to prepare a second bed for you, or…?" He figured leaving the second half up to America would be the most effective and appropriate.

"Nah." America answered casually, attempting to stifle another yawn, "I'm cool with sharing. You don't have to make a second one or anything." He smiled up at him and readjusted his pajamas.

"You can feel free to get settled in then if you'd like, I have to put these away."

"Yah, okay, cool. Will do!" He gave him a sleepy thumbs up and made his way to Japan's bedroom as Japan went off to return his small mountain of kimonos to whence they came.

America stretched his back, looking dubiously at the bed on the floor of Japan's bedroom. He truly wasn't sure how well he'd do without a fluffy mattress under him; but he figured he would manage to get some sleep somehow. It wasn't as if he had never slept on the floor before, he was just out of practice at it. He had liked camping out on the floor of his bedroom when he was a small child, but England had told him that sleeping on the ground was for savages. He had still liked it though. He had never really reconciled his ideas of what was appropriate with his older brother. He much preferred getting to make up his own mind on what was proper behavior.

He brushed away his thoughts on those long past memories and pulled back the blankets, tucking himself into bed. It was comfortable enough. It wasn't as if he was directly on the floor anyway. America figured he could get some pretty good sleep folded into the small bed, especially with Japan beside him. He let his head lay limply on the soft pillow. He tucked his arms over the blankets and rested his eyes.


	5. A Loveable Blur

**_*A/N: First, hope people enjoy this chapter. Also, I realized that way back (in chapter two I believe) I used some French, and since not every one takes French like I do I figured I should have given a little translation. France called America "mon petit chou d'idiot", it just means "my little idiot cabbage". In France cabbage is a pretty common term of endearment, and the idea of France calling people creepily familiar and mildly insulting nick names in his mother tongue makes me happy. _**

**_Now, enjoy! And if you like it, you should tell me, 'cause everytime someone has reviewed or messaged me to tell me they can't wait for a new chapter it makes me motivated, which provides you with more story._**

America hadn't realized that he was falling asleep until the soft sounds of someone shuffling carefully around brought him gently back to consciousness. He had worried completely needlessly about his quality of sleep on Japan's thin futon. He woke comfortable cushioned into the bed, the sheets cool against his clean skin.

Bleary eyed he made out a dark haired humanoid fuzz that was undoubtedly Japan. He thought that he had never been so fond of a blur in his entire life. He wondered what he was doing moving about like that; he certainly looked like he was doing something. But America was pretty sure that Japan probably had all sorts of funny rituals that he got up to when he was alone.

America came to the realization that the soft blurriness of his surroundings was not just the sleep in his eyes; he must not be wearing his glasses. He reached out tentatively through the unclear space to touch the Japanese blur.

"America?" Japan turned around, surprised by the newly conscious country.

"Hey," He said, voice scratchy from sleep, "Where'r my glasses?" Sitting up, he patted his hands around the blankets.

"Oh, they are right here. I hope I didn't wake you. I was trying to be quiet." The world came into sharp focus as Japan placed the glasses carefully on his face. The Asian nation was kneeling half on the partially un-tucked bed, a metal tray beside him.

"Thanks. You're not just a fuzz ball anymore." He chuckled.

"I thought that they looked uncomfortable to sleep in, I hope that is alright." When Japan had first entered the room to find America sleeping peacefully, he found the image (although sweet), to be odd. He felt that it would take him quite a while to get used to seeing America quiet, at rest. He had set down his things as quietly as he could and had noticed that the sleeping America was still wearing his glasses. Japan imagined the metal pressing against his face couldn't be very conducive to good rest. He thought that he should remove them so that America would be comfortable, but on the other hand, removing the man's glasses without asking while he slept seemed sort of rude and intrusive to him. After some moments of hesitation and multiple aborted attempts at removing them, Japan finally grabbed them by the bridge and took them. Folding them, he delicately had placed them on the floor above the pillows.

"Yah, whatevs, I don't usually sleep in 'em anyway." America shrugged and stretched, yawning obscenely widely when a pleasant smell caught his attention, and focused in on it.

"Hey! What's that?" He asked, excitedly pointing towards Japan's tray.

"Ah, this?" Japan gestured towards it. On the silver tray was two cups, a green tea pot, and two plates of something America could not identify, alongside what he assumed was fish. "We never ate dinner. We had said we would take a bath and then eat, but we didn't, and then we decided on tea, and again we did not. So, when I remembered I realized I was not being a very good host." Japan pushed the tray forward in presentation, seeming quietly pleased by it.

America smiled. Then, taking a more attentive look at his boyfriend, realized he had a very pressing question.

"Japan, are you dressed like a girl?" He asked, thoroughly having shed his sleepy demeanor, smirking obviously.

"What?" Japan reddened, "This is just what I wear when I cook."

"Girl's clothes?"

"No, Well…" Japan was no longer making eye contact, "these are my domestic clothes, that's all…"

"But uh, they are girl's clothes, right?" America pushed, highly amused. Japan reddened even more, shoulders growing closer to his ears.

"Oh, Japan! It's okay! It's cute on you, dude." He said, laughing good naturedly, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "You can wear girly stuff when you cook if ya' want." America reassured him. Sure, America thought it was strange; but plenty of things Japan did were strange to him, and his long flowing kimonos looked sorta' girly to America anyway, even if there were pants involved. "C'mon, show me what you made." America tried his best to be encouraging, feeling he'd embarrassed Japan. He may not have been the most considerate or thoughtful country to have ever lived, but he did his best. He wiped the last bit of sleep from his eyes and gave Japan his best smile as prompting. Japan slowly ceased to look like a beat and refocused his attention on what he had brought him.

"This is korokke." He said, framing the dish with his hands in an adorably stiff manner, "It is based on a western dish that Mr. France likes."

America looked it over somewhat suspiciously. French food was usually way to small and fancy for him, but it looked fried. That was a good sign.

"And this is Sakana no Shioyaki, it is fish. It's cooked since I know you do not like raw food." He finished, moving his finger frame to showcase the salty fish and looked at America expectantly.

"Cool. Looks good man," He was rewarded with a smile. At least he was pretty sure he was. "Can we eat it now?" America asked, leaning forward.

Japan nodded. "I also made tea, and since you discovered you like it we can have some of that." He suggested. America thought that he looked excited about the idea, but his emotions were like usual, much more subtle than his powers of observation were good at contending with.

"Okay, sounds good." He agreed, imagining that one thing about being Japan's boyfriend he would not appreciate was the seemingly constant tea pushing. He had gotten more than enough of that as a child. He soon discovered that the experience was somewhat softened by the cute way Japan poured it. At least he was considerate enough to have thought to bring a little saucer of cream to add to America's cup. America grabbed one of the small fried somethings that Japan had made and took a testing bite while Japan prepared their drinks.

As he chewed he couldn't help but realize that Japan's funny outfit was in fact pretty flattering, even if it was for girls. He liked the cute little scarf he wore over his hair. He also liked, he discovered, the food he had subconsciously continued to eat past the original test bite.

"' 'Is good." He complimented, his words muffled by the presence of food in his mouth.

"Thank you." Japan pushed his tea towards him on the small metal tray. He then followed suit of America and took a bite of korokke (the type of bite less likely to end in an application of the Heimlich maneuver of course).

America watched Japan's eyes travel from him to the tea repeatedly. He wasn't always so subtle apparently. America stuffed the last of it into his mouth and reached for his cup. He braced himself for a sip. It was okay, he still wasn't converted, but he didn't really find himself minding much either. Japan also took a sip; keeping pace with America's drinking in that way he always seemed to.

"So, what is this stuff exactly?" he inquired, reaching for a second one.

"It is potatoes, onions, and meat all mixed up together and then dipped in bread crumbs."

Knowing what was in them made America decide that they weren't so weird after all and added them to his list of Japan's foods he could understand.

"Would you like to try the Shioyaki?" Japan asked, eyeing the fish hungrily. He didn't want to be rude, but he really wanted to start eating it. It was one of his favorite dishes. It really wouldn't have usually been served with korokke, but he had gotten it out anyway because of how fond of it he was. It wasn't as if America would notice the odd combination. Japan had long felt that America mixed odd things together to eat anyway. He was still quite baffled at how many things the man managed to melt cheese on. He found himself taking the time to hope that America would not start to try and make him eat cheese now that they were together. It made him sick and he thought it was much too greasy to be good.

"Yah, but, do you wanna' get on the bed first? It's weird to just be hangin' out on the floor like that." He pulled his legs in and scooted over, patting the ruffled blankets next to him.

"Oh. Thank you." Japan said as he slid the tray out of the way and positioned himself next to America on the bed.

America poked at the fish on his plate briefly before he tried it. The first thing he noticed was how salty it was. Japan happily began to eat his own, hungrier than usual from the tiring past twenty four hours. They munched at the food silently for a couple of content moments until America grew impatient with silence. But Japan still insisted he wait to converse until he swallowed his food.

He became momentarily unsure of exactly how America had survived for so long. Japan looked at him worriedly as America struggled to finish chewing it all as quickly as possible so that he could speak. America decided it took longer to chew when you wanted to be able to talk. Finally, he was free to ask:

"So, what time is it exactly?"

"It is very late I think." Japan answered, "Soon we should probably go to sleep. I am not used to staying up so late..." Or embarking on new romantic endeavors, he added to himself, realizing how much he had worn himself out.

The two countries had enjoyed their meal (America who finished much earlier than Japan, was dedicated to entertaining himself by making conversation). Many of the things discussed were fairly average. Japan had ended up explaining how he made the meal while America fidgeted (respectfully as he could). America had regaled Japan with tails of his heroics from when he had to deal with England's frightful cooking skills:

"And I swear to God it was frickin' gray, man!" He pressed his spread fingers out in front of him for emphasis, making overly enthusiastic eye contact.

Japan was no stranger to England's lack of culinary talent, but he wasn't so sure you had to be an epic hero to stomach it (although, yah, it would probably help). But never the less, he found himself inwardly delighting at America's familiar bravado. He smiled into his tea as America laughed braggingly at his own heroics. Japan felt his eyelids droop, feeling heavy.

"Would you like to get ready for sleep now?" He asked, rubbing his face sleepily with his sleeve.

"Yah, okey doke!" America smiled and leaned back. "I'm all ready for bed."

"Alright. I need to put my normal clothes back on."

America gave him an approving thumbs up and lay back abruptly, resting the back of his blonde head on his laced hands. He wondered if he was supposed to close his eyes. He hadn't quite mastered when and why Japan's modesty would come into play, so he shut his eyes and hoped he would change quickly. He heard a busy ruffling and the noises of Japan moving about. He wasn't sure whether he was still in the room (or whether he had even decided to leave in order to change), or where he was in the process until he felt a warm body settle down beside him. He peaked his eyes back open, one at a time, to find Japan back in blue, pulling the blankets up and over his legs, settling in to bed.

Japan lay on his back, hands on his stomach, black hair strewn over his pillow. America propped himself up briefly, slipping his glasses off his face and folding them. He took a moment to consider where to place them.

"Would you like me to put them on the tray?" Japan asked, realizing why America had paused.

"Yah, thanks man." He said, thrusting his glasses half blindly towards Japan. Having given them up, he rolled onto his side, enjoying the warmth of sharing a bed. He felt the other settle back down. "Night!"

"Good night America."

They lay there silently together, both adjusting into a proper sleeping position. America, wrapped in the soft blankets, Japan's back lightly pressed against his own, was on the verge of falling asleep, when he noticed his boyfriend's fidgeting. He would fidget his legs around, not in any sort of wild manner, but consistently, and seeing as his legs would rub against America's every time he did it, America wasn't going to be able to sleep if that went on all night long.

As it happened again, this time feeling as if Japan had scooted himself closer against him, something occurred to America as he lay awake in the dark room. _Was this Japan's way of trying to snuggle?_ America peered over his shoulder. Japan's body didn't looked relaxed enough to be asleep, although he supposed he could have been. Maybe Japan just slept as straight as he sat. America flipped onto his other side and turned Japan by the shoulder enough so that they were face to face. He was met with an awake, and what he thought was a slightly embarrased but sleepy looking Japan. America pecked him lovingly on the lips and let him rest back on the bed, draping an arm over the thin warm torso of Japan: his loveable blur.

**_A/N The Second: I just HAD to address Japan's adorable little house wife outfit he wears. It's so cute and wierd and yet the other countries don't seem to usually take notice of it at all. Thanks for reading! :)_**


	6. Good Morning America!

**A/N: Hello there, sorry this took longer to get up than it has in the past; life is crazy at the moment. I hope it's pleasing. If you do enjoy it you should let me know. That way I will feel obligated to update promptly and won't go into wierd insecure writer mode, haha. **

**One more thing, the "sincerely" at the end of Japan's note was supposed to be crossed out. The HTML change is just refusing to stick however. I hope to get that figured out soon. **

**Enjoy!**

Japan had awoken, as usual, in need of a few minutes for his deceptively old body to get used to being awake. But this morning, the experience was far more pleasant. He could feel America's chest rising and falling with the reliability of sleep, his arm limp over his bed mate's waist. Though the arm was heavy, and in the night America had managed to cocoon them snugly into the blankets, Japan still found himself pleased at the situation, however mortified he would have been to admit it. He let himself lay in the warm bed longer than usual, feeling the tickle of America's breath on the nape of his neck. Enjoying the strength of America's arm as the man shifted momentarily in his sleep, he dropped his hand gently over his. It was easier to cuddle like this, when he didn't have to worry about what America was thinking and could just enjoy the affection and knowledge that America had wanted to hold him. He realized that since America had made the announcement of their shared boyfriend-hood, he could most likely look forward to more moments like that one. He figured that he should rise and start his day soon, but he knew that first he would need to devise a plan to get himself untangled from the blankets America had tightly wound around them. He decided that applying gentle (so as not to disturb the country beside him), but consistent (so as to actually make progress) wiggle until it loosened enough that he could gracefully crawl free. After some minutes of gentle wriggling, he set both arms free and pulled himself from bed; taking a moment to tuck America back in since he seemed disturbed by the new slackness of the blankets before he quietly made his way out of the room, taking a quick look back at America's sleeping sunlit form.

When America woke up the first thing he felt was the warm sun on his face, the second was that Japan was no longer pressed up against him. He wasn't pleased by the absence, but at least he was warm and on something soft. He pulled a white pillow over his sleepy face, grunting grumpily at hus own conscious state. America wasn't sp sure that he wanted to be up yet. He decided that it was Japan who should come back to bed, not him who should get up. _What was that guy up to anyway?_ America wondered, wrapping his hands in the blankets habitually, as he did when he was a young country. England would insist on rising early. Occasionally when he would protest his blankets would be cruelly snatched from him. He still slept late as a matter of principle.

His rumbling stomach was what finally drove him from the comfort of Japan's bed. He stood, stretching his back as he yawned and was glad to confirm that the thin floor level futon had not in fact done any damage to his spine. He bent down, running his hands over the tray from the previous night until they met the familiar shape of his glasses. He pushed them onto his face and stood. Leaving the blankets messily unmade, he wandered from the room. Stepping out into the corridor, he ran his fingers through his mussed and flattened yellow hair and continued to look around the bright and seemingly empty house. _Where is that guy?_ He questioned silently as he found himself entering Japan's sitting room. Plopping himself down in front of the low table, he rested his chin in his palm and sighed, already bored, when he noticed the sheet of paper that sat in front of him. Grasping it curiously, he stared attentively at Japan's fastidious hand writing.

**Dear America,**

**I sincerely hope that you slept well. If you are hungry there are rice balls in the kitchen. Feel free to help yourself to as many as you would like. In case they are not quite satiating, I would be happy to find something else for you to eat. I am out back, tending to our clothes from yesterday. Please feel free to come back and join me when you are ready.**

**Sincerely _Love, _**

**_Nihon_**

America smiled widely at the corrected signature, Japan always having to do things the proper way. He had forgotten about his poor muddy clothes he ealized, mindlessly running his hands over the yellow cloth of what Japan had lent him. He hoped he'd be able to wear them home later. He couldn't exactly go home naked, and Japan's western style clothes would probably be too small. Switching gears, his stomach reminded him what had pushed him out of bed in the first place. Rubbing his complaining belly, he made out in search of the kitchen. Finding the room, he immediately spotted the plate of odd rice shapes. America didn't really think "balls" was the appropriate term, more like triangles really. He picked one up in each hand and squeezed them gently, weighing them casually. He figured he'd eat after he located Japan, so he balanced a third into one of his hands and set off for the outdoors.

Other than the soft consistent sound of America's own feet on the hard wooden floor, the house was silent. As it turned out, Japan had left the door considerately open for him. America was glad, since his hands were filled with breakfast. He peaked his head out into the bright morning. Scanning he green outdoors, his eyes came to rest on a busy Japan. He had strung up some thin rope across the yard and was in the process of pinning up their newly washed clothes. His head scarf fluttered in the light breeze. America bit into one of his rice balls and leaned against the door frame. Apparently he'd get to wear his own clothes home after all.

"Morning! J—Nihon." He corrected himself. The other country jumped at the sudden noise, struggling to regain hold of the shirt he had dropped, not wanting to dirty it again. Composing himself, Japan turned to face America.

"Ah, good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yah! Real well." He stuffed more food into his mouth. There was some sort of filling in the center, but he wasn't really sure of its identity, whatever it was, he liked eating it. "This stuff is awesome man, you should totally use it more often." He complimented, eating messily, rice sticking to his face.

"Thank you." Japan decided to accept the compliment and ignore America's poor manners. "Your clothes shouldn't take too long to dry."

"Cool. Thanks for breakfast, b. t. dubs."

Japan nodded politely while wondering how exactly America had already finished. He refocused to find America had eagerly closed the gap between them.

"So babe, you gonna' say good morning?"

Japan frowned, confused. "I believe I did."

America snaked a hand around Japan to rest on his lower back, playfully pulling their bodies together. Japan instinctively pressed a protective hand against America's chest.

"No, dude, you did it wrong. Since I'm your boyfriend I get a kiss in the morning. It's just my right." He smiled largely.

"Oh." Japan's cheeks grew rosy, still acclimating to the ease with which America would embrace him, and the even more surprising willingness of his own reciprocation. He looked up into America's wide light eyes and felt a nervous quiver in his stomach. He really wasn't used to being so physically intimate, but he knew he enjoyed it.

"g-good morning America." He said, pressing his lips up against America's, who, always wanting a bit more than he is offered, gently parted Japan's lips with his own, drawing him into a deeper kiss. Japan felt something cold smoosh against his cheek, pulling away. America laughed and lifted his arm to wipe at Japan's face with his sleeve.

"Sorry." He shrugged, scratching his head. "Rice"

The taste of plums lingered on the tip of Japan's tongue.

"I'm very glad you liked your breakfast." Japan said awkwardly, still in America's affectionate grasp. The blond smiled and joined Japan in blushing. He was becoming a sucker for how cute Japan had evolved into being to him.

"You're so weird and adorable sometimes, dude." He laughed.

Japan decided that maybe, at least in this new endeavor, America was not as full of himself as he usually seemed. He demurely rewarded his efforts with a kiss to America's pink cheek, his nose pressing briefly against the lens of his glasses. America liked, and took some pride in the fact, that the usually exceedingly reserved Japan was willing to give him such affection. He allowed himself a loving, and had it been any lower it would have been quite mischevious, squeeze to Japan's back before letting them come apart.

"So, how long 'till those clothes dry?"

"Hmm," Japan cleared his throat, "Like I said, it should be soon, an hour or so. Do you have any plans for the day?"

America paused. There was usually something he was supposed to be doing, regardless of whether he actually got it done.

"I should probably check up on Tonny, little dudes probably wrecked the place." He realized, "He better not be gaming without me." And found himself glaring at an extra-terrestrial that was not present. Japan nodded, unnerved by America's odd behavior, acting so erratically sometimes.

"After our clothes are all ready I have some things I need to get for the house."

"So, were we gonna' chill later? We could go out!" America suggested excitedly.

"Well, I need to get some things for the house, I need to get things done."

"So…" America cocked his head, not quite sure if he was being turned down. "You wanna hang out later or no, man?"

"Uh," Japan paused, wanting the other to be more perceptive, "Maybe tonight would not be best…"

"Oh." America shifted his feet. "Like, can't you come out tomorrow or something? Some of us might be doing something cool. You could come!" He quickly recovered from the small rejection, not being one to question his own appeal for very long.

"Maybe, thank you for the invitation. What is it we would be doing tomorrow?"

America shrugged. "I don't know, something totally badass probably."

Thinking of the things America thought were badass, Japan was not so sure that he wouldn't regret it if he accepted the invitation.

"Who would be joining us?" He asked, hoping the inquiry didn't seem too rude or reticent.

"Prolly England and Canada. I'm gonna' make him do something fun for once." He laughed, remembering the last time he had tried to spend time with Canada. He had totally forgotten who he was supposed to be meeting with and ended up just going to get a burger.

"Alright, that would be very nice. Thank you." Japan liked Canada, he was quiet and polite. And even though Japan did not spend too much time with England nowadays, he appreciated him and had fond memories of their friendship, although it had been awkwardly interrupted. In some signifigant ways, they had similar outlooks and habits. Plus, he he reassured himself, even if Canada was easily pushed by the rambunctious America, England had signifigant experience keeping his antics at bay.

"Cool!" He clapped Japan encouragingly on the shoulder, somewhat painfully to the thin Japan. "What do you wanna' do now?" Sitting and watching clothes dry was less than appealing prospect for the impatient America.

"Hmm, would you like to play with my cat?"

"Uh, sure."

Japan had fetched his small pet and quickly became absorbed in giving it treats and scratching its ears, encouraging America to rub its white stomach. He seemed to be perfectly happy rolling the cat back and forth, manipulating its paws. It was cute, but America was more of a dog person really. Japan would lift it up under its arms in presentation to America, who had no choice but to somewhat awkwardly pat the furry head. It seemed as if Japan's enjoyment of the soft creature was interminable. At some point he had acquired a saucer of milk, which they watched the cat lap at happily. Trying to stave off boredom, America focused on watching the cat intently, his eyes becoming slightly glazed over in the process. When the cat finished its small saucer, Japan scooped it up, tickling at the pink nose. Eventually he angled the creature towards America, holding it out, careful not to jostle.

"Uh, did you want me to take it?"

"Yes please." Japan confirmed, pleased he understood his intentions. "Our clothes are probably dry now, I should check."

"'Kay." America reached to accept the cat.

"Please hold him like this." Japan requested, adjusting the cat's head so it rested comfortably against the crux of America's arm. He nodded in thanks and left to check up on the status of their much abused clothing.

America spent his time waiting making uncomfortable eye contact with the feline. Its piercing eyes staring into his face, unblinking. He felt crazy for seeing it, but he could have sworn it ws judging him.

Japan returned with his pile of neatly folded clothes to find America tugging at its ear in protest.

"Don't you look at me like that!" He argued as the cat glared and growled up at him. Japan gasped, tightening his hold on their clothes.

"America, what are you doing?" He stared in shock at the odd confrontation he had interrupted. A surprised America looked up, mid tug. "Why are you harassing my cat in this way?" His voice came out sounding strained, raising above its normally reserved volume.

"Uh-J-He was-He was glaring at me!" America excused, spinning the cat around as proof, but Japan's expression remained the same. "And then he-he like, was all growling at me and stuff, and-here!" He thrust the cat forward. "heh, trade?" He offered awkwardly attempting to exchange it for his clothes.

"Would you-would you apologize to Tama please?"

America was absolutely positive he would never understand Japan's thing with cats, but then again, having just argued with one, he didn't exactly feel confident judging.

"Sorry Tama" He patted the cat's stomach and looked to Japan for approval.

"Thank you America, I'm sure he understands that you meant no harm." Japan accepted the bundle of fur and passed America his dry clothes. "Would you like to change now?"

"yah, sure."

Japan smiled warmly (for him) at America, relieving his worry that he was mad.

America was glad to remove himself from the off putting interaction when he went to change back into his own clothes. Shedding the yellow kimono, he couldn't help but hope he didn't have to spend too much time with Tama. For all he knew, the cat wasn't glaring at him at all. Maybe its face was just as unreadable as his owners. But he didn't feel guilty about scolding him, he had yowled at him. America put an abrupt halt to his train of thought, not feeling comfortable devoting his brain power to his temperamental relationship with his boyfriend's cat. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he congradulated himself on the events of the past day and night, considering it an impressive victory. Every hero needs a love interest after all, and he hoped he would have a chance to rescue Japan from danger sometime in the near future. He could see it now: His dashing heroic figure embracing a trembling Japan, eyes alight with admiration and love. America often let his egotistical imagination get the better of him. He savored his heroic high as he buttoned his shirt and pulled on his pants.

The dressed America re-emerged to find Japan dressed and patting a lazing Tama. Setting himself down beside them, he watched them momentarily in silence. Japan let his weight gently shift to lean against America.

"I have to go shopping soon." He informed him.

"Yah? Like, how soon?" He absorbed the weight gladly, without comment.

"I should probably be going now."

"Oh, okay. Can I take some of those things you made for breakfast home with me?"

America and Japan departed together. They went their separate ways for the day after Japan had packed him some rice balls and America had taken it upon himself to add a few more to the package. While saying a pleasant but not very smooth good bye, America had attempted to claim a kiss, but was denied, Japan again having to inform him that gratuitous public displays of affection were never appropriate, as he used his arms as an awkward impromptu blockade. America laughed it off as he went on his way, vowing to get Japan alone behind closed doors sooner rather than later. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he felt a mounting excitement for the future, enjoying the idea of spending more of it with Japan.

**A/N: Thanks for reading the new chapter. I'll try to get a new one up soon, but finals week might make my progress a bit slower than average.**


	7. Follow The Leader

**A/N: So sorry that this took so long to get up. I've been out of town for NHD. Hopefully the extra length makes up for the wait at least a little bit. I enjoyed writing this chapter, hope you like reading it! If you have the time to read seven chapters of this fic it would be super cool to take a few extra seconds to leave a comment. Thanks and enjoy!**

Japan's eyes swiftly swept across the colorful shelves, slowly making his way down the aisle, his hands on his shopping cart. If he wasn't sure he needed it in the house, he made a mental note to reconsider it later. Japan much preferred relocating it before he checked out, to sorting through self-indulgent slopes of goods, struggling to return them all to their proper place. Always trying his best to resist becoming excessive, he only allowed himself a small number of personal gaps in the quiet discipline he so valued. So, finding himself considering many more decadent purchases than usual, tempted to buy things he felt America might appreciate, he felt sort of silly.

He would pause, slightly frowning, as he considered whether to buy this or that, things he probably would never use, and foods he certainly would never eat. He would shake his head and move along, realizing it would be quite odd to start shopping for the other country, especially one as obviously capable of feeding himself more than enough. If Japan was going to be cooking for him in the future, he should feed him normal things that would be better for him rather than indulging his frightening capacity for capricious gluttony. Although, Japan had to admit to himself that his own dietary habits were not as beneficial to his health as he would like to think; never the less, it was still far far less horrifying than the nation's who prided himself on greasy cheese glazed beef patties, often smothered in mayonnaise, stuck between two large half rolls of white bread, and apples robbed of their nutritional value drowned in a caramelized sugar filling resting in a sweet buttery crust. Japan had always found it disconcerting, but as of late there had been an addition of endearment in his response. He was glad for his new connection with America.

Despite the strangeness of kissing, being held by, and being told he was loved by the bold and abrasive blond, he was made to feel very content knowing that these were things on which, he felt, he could now depend, even though there were clearly moments when modesty and doubt as to the correct behavior hindered his relaxation. Although he had always been quite talented at maintaining his calm exterior, thinking things through before he acted, and weighing the results of his responses, how to interact with the other countries had instilled some insecurity in him as long ago as his emergence from isolation, and when he was young and had been taken under China's wing, Japan found the way he responded to him was quite often either considered odd, confusing, or rude to his older brother. Adding a romantic entanglement with America to the mix exasperated it most certainly, but so far it had felt very worth it. The fact that America was often a brash oaf was made more pleasant now that he could consider him his brash oaf.

Japan blushed and twisted his head back and forth as if any casual passerby would have been able to divine why he was suddenly inclined to quickly pull some confectionary treat from the shelf and stash it in his kart, and who he really intended to have eat it.

He liked food and was used to cooking for himself, his boss, and sometimes friends like Germany, Italy, and Greece on occasion. He usually at least moderately enjoyed doing it, and he had liked feeding America, although the country's reckless vigor in eating had been nerve wracking in more than one moment.

Japan did his best to wrap up the shopping excursion, not wanting to make room for any more embarrassing decisions. Check out was efficient and pleasant, other than the awkward (only for Japan) moment when the purchase for his boyfriend had crossed the counter. Recovering quickly, he stepped out into the afternoon sun.

* * *

><p>America had arrived home whistling, in his stereotypically high spirits. He had been right about Tony letting the place deteriorate, although his living room was not quite the apocalyptic wasteland he had allowed himself to imagine.<p>

The gray alien was comfortably wrapped in a small blanket playing one of their newest video games. The small extra terrestrial greeted him distractedly, not setting down the sleek black controller. America didn't feel like picking up, tending to draw out his cleaning indefinitely. Sometimes he missed Lithuania's help more than others. Using Tonny's head as affectionate support, he lowered himself onto the floor and snatched the vibrating controller from the protesting roommate, the glossy black eyes narrowing with indignation. America stuck out his tongue petulantly as he attempted to transition into the game as smoothly as possible.

Tonny's accusatory glare slipped into a curious and suspicious sideways glance. He asked him where he had been. This was the second night that America hadn't returned home without warning or even the courtesy of an informative phone call. The conversation they had had in between those two nights made his absence even more suspicious. Tonny wasn't sure if America was actually oblivious to his obvious curiosity or if he was deliberately ignoring him. As it turned out, he was really just oblivious, eventually turning with the realization that eyes had been on him unwaveringly. The luminous black ovals were unnerving when they went unblinking for too long.

"You can have the controller back if you want it that bad…" America attempted appeasement, smiling crookedly.

The alien made a small harumphing noise and shook his bulbous head, asking him why he hadn't come home.

America's eyes widened in recognition. He had realized it wasn't the usual for him to not let Tonny know he would be staying at another country's house but it hadn't occurred to him that the little "guy" would have been so irked by it.

"Well, I followed your advice and was like totally awesome at it! I can't believe I questioned my heroic prowess." He hurled out the word's excitedly, his pleasure at having succeeded with forging ahead with US-Japanese relations came out as a brag, continuing to tell Tony of his adventures. He was not able to help himself from sharing some of the story of recent romantic triumph, surprisingly being tasteful enough to leave some of the more tender and private moments to himself, doing it much more on mindless instinct rather than any sort of thought out sense of privacy for him or the introverted Japan.

Tonny seemed calmed by the information. He liked hearing America talk. Coming to a new planet had been quite the startling experience, so being taken in by a country who was friendly to the point of being over bearing took the pressure to initiate interaction off his small gray shoulders. And besides, Tonny was happy that America had been so warmly accepted by Japan, as long as this new dimension of the two nation's friendship did not detract from his and America's gaming times, he would continue to be pleased by the development.

* * *

><p><strong><em>THE FOLLOWING DAY<em>**

Japan waited patiently, scrutinizing his surroundings. _What an odd place for America to want to meet_ he internally commented. He shifted his slender fingers over the straps of his bag, rubbing them absent mindedly. He had received a text from America a few minutes earlier saying that they'd be running a little late, the message signed with a little smiley face. Japan slid his phone open, re-examining the text.

"Hey! Japan!" America shot up an eager arm, "Heeey!"

"Quit your yelling America, he sees you." England scolded, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

America continued to wave excitedly, making sure he had gained Japan's attention. Japan had heard the first exclamation, looking up and giving a small wave of acknowledgement as he put his phone away, hoping it hadn't made him appear impatient.

"Someone seems eager." France laughed teasingly. America frowned, having been trying to forget France's unfortunate presence. The morning had not gone as planned so far. He had already had to take an uncomfortable couple of moments to consider whether or not England would connect the days-earlier statements about "strange feelings" and "messed up emotions" with his current enthusiasm for Japan. Deciding that, knowing England, even if the truth of the situation did begin to dawn on him, he would most certainly choose the route of denial. That's just the way his older brother was. If something was distasteful to him, he would try to make the little piece of reality fit into his appropriate English comfort zone, and if that was not a possibility he pretended it fit.

America heard a small voice make a statement but it didn't really register.

He felt foolish for having had attempted a confession to France, even if he had just lied and said Japan had come onto him. America then realized that he really didn't like the enthusiasm which France had displayed at the idea. He didn't like it at all. An instantaneous angry flush rose to his face, realizing even more how little he wanted France in the same general space as his boyfriend.

"America, what in the world is wrong with you?" England asked exasperatedly interrupting the glaring America had been doing at France as Japan approached them. America was snapped out of it with too little time for giving an explanation that wouldn't rudely delay greeting Japan, so England waved a hand in dismissal of the question.

"Hello Japan, how are you?" He asked politely, smiling his complacent automatic smile, which was returned with Japan's own reserved half smile and polite greeting (although they were genuinely happy to see each other, to an observer it would be hard to tell).

"Hello England, it is good to see you. Thank you all for inviting me out." He bowed his head slightly.

In that moment America imagined that if you left those two alone together and observed the ensuing conversation, it would most likely be the most boring and ceremonial thing one would ever have to sit through in their entire life.

"Hi Japan. How have you been?" Canada piped up weakly. Japan started, realizing for the first time that there were more than four countries present.

"Oh, uh, I have been well, thank you for asking. How have you been?" He responded quickly, trying to hide his surprise.

"I've been we—"

"Hello there Japan" France smiled his devilish handsome grin.

"Hello France." He replied to the blond country who had leaned in with the intention of placing a kiss on each of his cheeks. Somewhat confused by the unexpected forward movement, he did not have any time to respond. Before France could successfully make contact with Japan he received a swift and sore making punch to his long arm, which America attempted to deliver as if it was a normal one of his affectionate hits.

"Enough boring talk!" He laughed loudly and awkwardly, "So, we going or what?" He asked.

One of England's massive eye brows shot up. _America was being more impatient than usual._ "You still haven't told us where we are going"

"That's because you don't need to know yet! I'm clearly the leader in this situation, you all are gonna' follow me."

"Where do you want us to follow you?" Canada asked weakly.

France rubbed his arm, internally agonizing over his tenderized flesh and hoping it wouldn't be marred by an unsightly bruise.

"I thought we were going out to eat." England reminded the group.

"Nope, not anymore!" America smiled at him, assuming his compliance.

"Well, I'm not just going to go anywhere with you running us amuck America." England informed him.

"We should go to my place if we're eating. Neither of you should be allowed to have your own pitiful excuses for cuisine." France suggested haughtily, flipping his wavy locks.

England frowned. "There's nothing wrong with my food."

"We're not eating." America restated.

"I am sort of hungry." Canada attempted to contribute.

"Then we should go to my place." France pushed.

"I still take offense at your reasoning." England said, not wanting to let go of France's slight.

"All I said is the truth." France shrugged unapologetically.

"We're not getting food." America re-asserted.

Japan waited quietly, eyes flitting between each bickering nation. His brow creased feeling tense. He really wasn't sure how they had ever successfully done anything as a team.

After a few minutes more of heated bickering, England slapping an obnoxiously guffawing France, Canada cowering, and America threatening to remove his support for the U.N., a decision had been reached. They would, to avoid more obscenely ridiculous debate, be following America to his mysterious destination, provided (as England had decided) that if it was anything stupid they would promptly be leaving. The morning was going no smoother than it had been when America had first gathered England, then Canada, and France later having inserted himself into the situation.

"So, which way is it we need to go?" Japan asked, already tired from the antics.

"That way!" America practically shouted, pointing away. The group collectively braced themselves for a difficult outing.

* * *

><p>The five countries walked, each in their own respectively odd spirits. America led them with enthusiasm and vigor, enjoying the situation which required a lot of giving directions and pointing everyone onwards. France, although he appreciated agriculture, wasn't fond of trekking through America's land in his good day clothes seemingly without destination. Canada trudged along happily enough, having been born and raised on similar land. England, in an attempt to bury his resentment, made conversation with Japan, who was just appreciating the lack of overt conflict, and being reminded of how enjoyable a conversationalist England could be. As the walk went on however, Japan felt himself become fatigued, England agitated, Canada felt ignored, and France felt too beautiful and sophisticated for such an adventure. When finally, America brought them all to an abrupt halt.<p>

"Here we are!" He informed them enthusiastically, spreading his arms wide in presentation. England gasped, coming to rest with a hand on his hip. "America, what is this place?"

"Oh my goodness." Canada breathed in surprise.

Before them lay a vast expanse of fields and canals in ochre desert.

"I just found it! Isn't it awesome?" He asked, clearly pleased with himself.

"Yes. It certainly is very beautiful America, but what is it?" Japan stepped forward to ask, taking in the newly unveiled view.

France brushed the hair out of his face and shielded his eyes from the sun, looking it all over. It was nice, and he liked America enough to not wish to begrudge him his excitement, but he never saw any monument or artifact that in his mind could compare to what he had at home.

"They were like, used for water forever ago. Farmers or something used them. My boss is totally psyched about it. Didn't know the existed till super recently." He laughed proudly.

"Wow." Canada exclaimed, "I've never found anything quite like that America."

England remained silent but nodded approvingly, feeling sufficiently appeased by America's surprising interest in the historic site.

"It's nice.." France offered a compliment.

"Nice? It's totally badass!" America moved towards the old irrigation canals, briefly turning away from them. "It looks wicked cool from on top of the scaffolding." He explained, turning back to the group. "C'mon guys, you gotta' go look around." He waved them forward. The group dispersed across the wide fields littered with long deep ditches, walking between the tall pieces of scaffolding and tarp used for excavation. Canada wandered off towards a particularly wide canal and leaned over to peer down into it. France and Japan meandered farther towards the main concentration of scaffolds in the same general direction. England and America fell into pace together, England examining the ancient ruts while America watched him for approval.

"Whadd'ya think man?" He asked.

"I think it's quite nice. Good job America." England admitted genially, letting his thick brows fall gently on his face. America smiled, never having completely relinquished his pleasure at being complimented by his sibling.

A ways away, France stopped by Japan who was gazing at a partially excavated canal. France smirked, eyes sparkling fancifully.

"So Japan," He began, "How are you enjoying the little trip our friend America organized for us?"

"I am enjoying it very much. These are quite an interesting thing to find." Japan turned his attention to France. "It was very nice of him to bring us here."

France's smile widened.

"You certainly like notre monsieur Amerique, don't you, mon petit lapin japonais?" He chuckled, "What about you makes that so, I wonder" He brought his hand up to run it softly across the shorter man's cheek. Japan stiffened intensely, becoming rigid.

"Mr. France, what exactly are you doing?" He exclaimed and blushed intensely, "Th-This is not appropriate!" He stammered, stepping back.

"Oh, F-~!" America's eyes came to rest on a conversing Japan and France. _They were not supposed to wind up alone together!_ He scolded himself.

"Gotta' go!" He exclaimed, pushing violently past an offended England.

"Ugh, America! What are you d—"

America shot quickly across the desert separating them, unconcerned with England's protests. Almost there, France's caress of Japan's cheek made him move much faster. Behind him, the abandoned England saw the same, frowning in disapproval of France's flirtations. Finally coming upon them, after what had seemed like much too long a moment, without a seconds pause or hesitation, he was slipping in between a smiling France and a blushing Japan, and grasped his boyfriend firmly by the wrist and pulled him along.

"Hey France, what's up?England says he has something super important to tell you!You should go all the way over there!Now!" All his sentences ran together as he shot them over his shoulder (in a voice he hoped was casual) as he pulled a stunned Japan away. France strained to look at the far off England, distracted from America's odd behavior by the fact that it really did appear as if England was staring at him intensely.

America's long legs covered ground quickly. When he felt sufficiently separated from France (who had begun to walk over to England), he pulled Japan behind a long sheet of opaque hanging tarp.

"America! What was that?" Japan breathed heavily, not having expected to have to make his short legs keep pace with a race walking America. "That was very rude to Mr. France!" He was flushed with a mix of embarrassment and confusion at both France and America's exceedingly strange behavior.

"Rude?" America exclaimed, not letting go of the slightly leaning away Japan, "Dude's lucky I didn't kick his ass!"

Japan's deep brown eyes blurred in confusion, slackening his attempt to pull away.

"America, what—why are you—why was Mr. France acting so strangely?"

"C-Cause he's France. Dude was being a creep!"

"But why did you come over like that? Before we were just talking. Does England actually have anything important to tell him?"

"Like I said: He was being a creep!" America insisted.

"Yes, but isn't France always like that? You couldn't have known he was saying anything stranger than usual. I can handle myself you know, America." Japan returned his insistence with an added dose of confusion and frustration at the continuing uncomfortable social situation.

"I was—He—A couple days ago—And then" America couldn't seem to grasp one firm idea and take hold of it, his speech impassioned and staccato. "I just had to interrupt okay? I'm the hero! I'm your boyfriend!" He gestured towards himself by thrusting his thumb back in his own direction, "So, like, I'm _your_ hero! Okay? So, you've just gotta' trust my judgment!" He finished, cheeks rosy, eyes boring into Japan intensely.

""I—" Japan started, surprised by America's passion.

"So, don'tcha' trust me?" America asked, light blue eyes softening as he stepped closer. Japan's breath hitched. He was confused as he searched America's face for the playfulness that at the moment seemed to be missing. In truth, he couldn't really say he trusted America's judgment, but looking up into his big concerned eyes, he knew he could trust America.

"I—yes, America" He looked down and away, intimate conversation and eye contact still not being his forte. "I trust you." He paused, "Very much."

America brightened immediately, playful exuberance re-entering his eyes and he straightened up to his full height, seeming to inflate.

"Good!" He exclaimed, flashing his pearly grin and laughed, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. Japan was still somewhat baffled, having just been shamelessly flirted with, absconded with by his (protective?) boyfriend, and asked to assuage some previously unseen insecurity.

"Prove it then." He dared, grasping Japan by the upper arms.

"What do you mean?" His brow furrowed, unnerved by America's hopeful smirk. America bit his lip, raising an eyebrow as he pulled Japan's arms around his waist. He leaned forward, noses practically touching. Somehow America managed to look totally innocent as he pressed himself against Japan's slightly frowning lips.

"America, please!" Japan had taken a step back. "Everyone is right over there."

"Aw, C'mon man! They're all the way over there and all busy. Look, we're totally out of sight. I chose this place for today 'cause I though you would like it. So, buck up for a sec' and just give me a little kiss, 'kay?" He winked playfully, taking a finger and pointing unsubtly to his own lips. Japan's frown deepened.

"America," He paused, intensifying their eye contact. "You must stop being so inappropriate in public, like grabbing me in front of Mr. France… And promise not to make me eat cheese..." He added for good measure, "...then I will do that with you as much as you like, within reason of course." He surprised America by grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and pulling him back into their kiss, Japan's usually muted demeanor tended to make other countries forget how intense the ancient country was. He swallowed his embarrassment and America's tongue in one swift movement. America smiled into the kiss, lacing his fingers with Japan's free hand, letting the other rest on his hip, feeling a slight twitch beneath the hand as Japan pushed down the urge to fidget away from the touch. He joined Japan in closing his eyes. Japan let his hand relax from his collar onto America's firm shoulder and pulled himself closer. As their bodies remained up against each other, and America let his hand travel up and down Japan's hanging arm, he found himself focusing on the wonderful thinness of Japan's limbs.

"Oh, Maple! America? Japan? What are you doing?" Canada's high whispery voice interjected with the sound of rustled sheeting.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **

**French translations:**

**Notre Monsieur Amerique: Our mister America**

**Mon petit lapin japonais: My little Japanese bunny**

**France is such a creeper, and the fact that his creepyness it totally canon makes it amazing.**


	8. Damn Tawdry Behavior

**A/N: Helloo! I had to edit this on ff.n an extra time because it accidentally got erased, ugh. But, oh well, it's here now. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope that translates to your enjoyment. Thanks for all your lovely, comments, faves, messages, or what have you, they always make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So, by all means, please continue to leave them. **

**Thanks, and enjoy!**

Canada's voice had only ever sounded so loud to America once before.

It was always astounding how fast Japan could put space between himself and another country when he felt uncomfortable.

Canada stood expectantly before them, having pulled the tarping aside to find a scene he certainly hadn't been expecting. In that moment, America found himself for the first time really wishing he kept better tabs on his quiet brother. Not that he minded all that much, but he had a feeling the display they'd accidentally put on would not go over well with the stammering Japan. America licked his stinging lip as he realized Japan had bitten him in his surprise.

"I—uh—America was…." Japan, the now rose tinted country, was not the picture of composure. "I was drowning!"

"How were you—" the confused Canada was interrupted.

"hehehe" America laughed a boisterous, forced, and awkward laugh, "He was drowning with… uh, emotion! I was giving him a hug!"

"W-with your mouth?" Canada stammered, shifting uncomfortably.

Japan's cheeks turned the color of pomegranate juice. "No!" he almost shouted, "We-we were—"

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have come over here without asking! I just thought that—I didn't think there was anything going on that would be interrupted, and, oh maple…" Canada fished for a smoothing apology and instead found his own awkward embarrassment. "I just mean that I didn't think you would be…umm…"

"We weren't!" Japan insisted.

"okay! I'm-I'm sorry!" Canada turned to flee from the train wreck of a scene. "eek!" But was pulled back into the small shielded area by his brother.

"Canada! Wait man!"

"I'm so sorry!" Canada winced, panicking.

"No! Canada, it is us who should be apologizing!" Japan lurched forward, fists clenched for emphasis. "We were not doing anything! But we were doing it inappropriately!" Japan was not quite sure whether he was trying to apologize for, or deny his reckless conduct.

"No, no! It was me! I should have announced myself, I know no one notices when I'm there." Canada further protested self deprecatingly, with maybe a hint of passive aggression at his overall (and uncomfortable current) situation.

"Both of you shut it!" America ordered loudly, but mo more rudely than usual. "And stop all the silly apologizing." He clasped a hand warmly on Japan's shoulder, causing him to jump in response. "Just take a breath man, you look like you're gonna' pass out." He advised the country who had in fact been holding his breath. He dropped his other hand fraternally onto Canada's tense shoulder, eliciting a small flinch. "Little Bro—"

"I'm not younger than yo—"

"Shh," he interrupted, "little bro, what you just saw is like, totally nothing to get freaked out about. Sometimes, when two countries like each other a whole lot, and thinks the other one's totally hot, the—"

"America!" Japan protested vehemently with appalled embarrassed desperation.

"Just hold up a sec man, I'm explaining something to Canada." America was the only nation present who did not feel as if they might literally die of shame any second. "Then they like to do stuff like that sometimes. Ya' know: Like kissing, and petting, an—"

"America!"

"America!" The exclamation came simultaneously from both Canada and Japan.

Canada waved his hands in front of himself as if he could somehow brush away the situation and terrifying memory of his brother passionately kissing Japan.

"I understand what you were doing."

"Nothing." Japan interjected hopelessly.

"I really, um, I really don't mind. I mean, um, I don't have a problem with that sort of, uh, thing…" He trailed off. "So, nng…" He made a small defeated noise, as he struggled to find the right words. "So, please continue." And he chose wrong, "No! I'm sorry! I mean, don't mind me. Just, it's okay…"

Japan was busy making intense and dedicated eye contact with his own shoes.

"That's right dude, it's okay!" America gave Canada a pat, "There's no problem." America smiled, trying to look them both in the face, and half succeeding. "As long as Canada doesn't tell anybody: Like England for example." He stuck out a finger with his point. "Especially don't tell England." He amended, sounding a little more serious with mention of his older brother.

"I wasn't going to tell anybody. Really. I just want to go back and look at the big ditches now." He practically pleaded.

"Okay bro, stop bein' all awkward and go back over there with England and France. Tell 'em I say we're going and will be there in a jiff."

"Alright. I'll go do that." Canada agreed thankfully as he backed out of the hidden enclosure. _Why does no one ever know I'm there?_ He lamented to himself as he stalked off.

"America, why would you say those things to Canada?" Japan asked, still not calm.

"Whaddya' mean?"

"I mean, you must know how embarrassing this is for me." Japan stared firmly at the light hearted America, who felt a rare twinge of guilt tug at his insides. He rubbed the back of his own neck lightly.

"Uh, sorry man. I just thought… Well, Canada's my bro', ya' know?" He's not gonna' blab about it. Really." He stressed the final word, hoping it made some sort of persuasive difference. As long ago as the first time he'd convinced the Asian nation to try out a simple fortune telling game, and Japan revealed more personal sentiments about his insecurities than America had been remotely expecting, he'd always had a soft spot for the other country's feelings. America felt like a kid again momentarily, trying to deal with an uninteresting silence he knew he was probably supposed to be maintaining.

"Dude? Man? Nihon?" He poked him in the shoulder gently to gain his attention, wanting some sort of response. Japan placed two fingers against his aching temple.

"I just do not want to go back out there." He sighed, "It will be so uncomfortable. How will I speak to Mr. Canada again? It was so innapropriate. I cannot believe my behavior."

America tried to suppress a smirk, even when he was flustered (especially when he was flustered?) he just seemed too cute for America.

"Hey." He threw an arm around his shoulder, "I wasn't trying to embarrass you." He let his other arm wrap around Japan's front, enveloping him in a firm but gentle hug. Japan wrapped his hands around one of his boyfriend's forearms; accepting the hug stiffly, even if not quite returning it.

"Patience is a virtue, so is moderation. Please, we cannot be so rash with our decisions." He edified America quietly.

"You ready to go now?"

"In a moment please." Japan muttered, letting himself appreciate America's comforting grasp on him. America nodded, for once semi-gracefully choosing silence as he let his arms tighten around the temporarily vulnerable Japan.

After a few moments dedicated to letting Japan regenerate his socially appropriate usual self, he straightened up in America's arms.

"I would like to go now America."

"Okay dude, y'all ready to go then?" He asked, arching a blond eye brow.

"Mm." He nodded in response, pulling away and straightening out his clothes. America chuckled and smoothed down his unusually ruffled black hair, enjoying the fact that he had been the one allowed to muss it. He pulled aside the tarp and motioned for Japan to go ahead, smiling widely at him. Japan, once again the picture of composure, gracefully accepted the gesture. Together, they walked down to the three country's who apparently had been waiting for them. Their eyes made Japan's face burn, but he shoved the feeling down.

"Are you alright Japan?" England asked, hand on hip, as he looked Japan up and down with what appeared to be very genuine concern.

"Unh," Japan started, unsure of why he was asking.

"Hi guys." Canada piped up. "I told England and France about how you tripped and fell into one of the canals, and how Amrica had to help you out." Canada looked at them both, eyes wide with the act of deception.

"Oh, yes, of course." Japan nodded, taking in the story. "It was very kind of America to assist me in this way." America was grinning; he liked that version of events very much.

"Yah, I like totally rescued him." He contributed.

"Yes, yes, very good America." England said placatingly to his bragging brother. "Glad to see you're alright Japan." He said with a nod to his long time friend and ally in propriety.

"So, what's the plan now?" France interjected.

"We were originally going to eat." England suggested.

"I am still pretty hungry." Canada admitted. " Well, hungrier actually, since no one listened to that earlier." He said with quiet passive aggression that went completely ignored by all.

"Dinner sounds good to me," France agreed. "It will give you and I more time to talk" He added, looking intently at England, who bristled in response.

"I told you France, I do not have anything to say to you! I still don't! Stop asking!" He hissed.

France chuckled at his brother. "Oh mon frère, you need not be shy with me. You can confide in me whatever it is. Is it an apology for the many wrongs you have done me?"

"No! It most certainly is not! It's nothing you idiot. I was looking at you because of your damn tawdry behavior!"

France placed a hand woundedly over his heart, turning his face away dramatically, his sandy blond hair whipping with the motion. "Tawdry? I am simply a sensual romantic!"

"Un, what would we be eating?" Japan asked in an attempt to redirect conversation away from France's disturbing lack of modesty and restraint. Every moment spent with France made his younger brother Italy's behavior make more and more sense. _No one should be allowed to live with France during formative years. _

"Burgers"

"Fish and chips"

"Cassoulet"

He received three simultaneous answers. Japan sighed internally. He just wanted to be at his own house, tucked into bed with Tama.

"There's good food I bet you would all like right near my house." Canada attempted to placate them, a practice he had grown used to as the least assertive western power.

"I think that would be a very good choice." Japan agreed and nodded vigorously in an attempt to move the uncomfortable get together towards its completion.

"Alright. I don't see why we couldn't do that." England conceded. As long as France didn't get his way, he didn't really care who did.

"Alright, why not?" France felt the same way about England.

"I'm sorry, but I have to think about if there are important things to do at my home"

"Aww, no, Japan, we're all going!"" America assumed, patting him on the back. America had orchestrated the outing with Japan's presence in mind. There was no way he was losing him half way through. Especially since he'd assumed they were going home together, something he had been looking forward to.

"Yes, don't abandon us now." France playfully chided him.

"A-alright." Japan acquiesced.

"So, Canada, you're the one who knows how to get there." England remarked pointedly.

"Yes but, I don't know the way from here. America needs to get us back to his house."

"Everybody follow me!" America gladly exclaimed, striking a pose.

* * *

><p>The walk back was a good deal more peaceful than the walk there, aside from the few minutes that France resurrected the topic of England's supposedly unexpressed apologetic sentiments. Luckily for America, France was too busy assuming England was lying to mention why he thought England had something to say in the first place.<p>

The resteraunt turned out to be a lot like Canada: Friendly and quiet. But ordering turned out to be difficult. England felt the need to express disgust at america's obscene order, America was set on making Japan eat a meal in a serving size he approved of, and France was just generically horrified by the lack of rose petals and wine present. When ordering drinks he made that misgiving particularly clear, but America insisted that whatever they ended up ordering, could have at no point in its life, been a fruit. One must always be wary when America orders the alcohal. The rambunctious blond could drink pretty much anyone under the table. The only other country who would (maybe) have a shot at ingesting more alcohol successfully was Germany, but that had thankfully never been tested. In fact, no other country could truly remember seeing America drunk; and other than England, none of them really wanted to. Even the night a few days previous when he had made his first move towards Japan, sure he had been loosened up, but certainly not drunk.

"Did you know that the lighter your eyes, the more you can drink? It is because melanin increases sensitivity to outside stimulents like alcohol and medication." Japan informed them out of the blue, partially just in hopes they wouldn't try to make him drink so much.

"Haha, weird." America commented irreverently. Japan didn't think he'd gotten the point.

"Really? I didn't know that…" Canada whispered.

"It's a small price to pay for pretty brown eyes like Japan's, non?" France laughed boisterously, "But then again, pretty blue ones like Canada's are quite nice too of course." He began to laugh again. But it quickly died off, smothered by England's icy stare.

"Pervert." He scoffed into his beer.

"Simply a connasieur of pretty things." France shrugged shamelessly.

"How is everyone's meal?" Japan managed to interject, tired of the overt bickering and unseemly conduct.

"Very nice." Canada nodded, not quite sure how he had been supposed to respond to France's terrifying compliment. They weren't new, they weren't really personal, but they never stopped being creepy. Canada really didn't fee like dealing with any more uncomfortable anything ever again.

"'is good." America managed to mumble through the food in his mouth.

"Yes, very good.." England agreed. "Hey now, you! Your kind can't eat that!" He wagged his finger good naturedly at the air next to his plate.

"Uh, dude? What are you talking to?" America asked in between large bites.

England tore his focus away from whatever he had been playfully scolding and dedicated himself to ignoring America's question. _America had an alien for a room-mate. Who was he to judge?_ He complained inwardly.

Dinner, despite it's awkward start, went smoother than the majority of their day. England was always a little more fun tipsy (as long as he wasn't allowed to descend into the sad questioning drunk he could quickly become). After America was done stuffing his face, he managed to eat both Canada's and Japan's left-overs, much to England's chagrin. The outing was brought to a predictable end with England attempting to lure France out of the restaurant as the suave country was busying himself flirting with the fawning waitress.

Canada zipped up his sweater as they stepped into the cool night.

Goodbyes were amiable. Canada just had a short walk home ahead of him, and England's car was by America's and would be giving France a ride home.

"My place is pretty close so I'm gonna' take Japan back myself, but first there's some awesome stuff near here we were gonna' check out real quick."

"Alright, if you're sure he doesn't need a ride." England said with a wave and departed with France who blew them a kiss.

"You're sure you didn't have anything to say?" They heard France mutter as they walked off.

After Canada's awkward and rapid goodbye, Japan and America were finally left alone.

"Thank you for giving me a ride, my house is pretty far from here." Japan said.

"Oh, uh, I wasn't really gonna' take you back… I mean, c'mon dude, don'tcha' wanna' come to my place? I've got an awesome new action flick." He smiled invitingly as his voice rose in childish excitement. "Plus, I think Tonny would enjoy getting to know you better! You like some similar stuff, actually."

"Oh. Thank you for the invitation. I would enjoy watching a movie." Japan accepted in his stereotypically one tone voice.

"Cool." America gave him an appreciative thumbs up, and then paused, looking him up and down. "You look tired man, you alright?"

"Yes. I'm just old; an outing like this tends to make me sore and achy."

"Oh, right. France gets the same way, but you look way younger than that guy. You want me to carry you?"" He asked with complete sincerity.

"N-No America." Japan responded, slightly put off by the offer. "I do not want you to carry me! P-Put me down this instant!" He demanded as the tall blond had slung an arm under his legs. America's attempt at chivalry was not well received. They walked back side by side, Japan a safe distance from America's side, on the lookout for any more attempts at gallantry. Sometimes having a hero for a boyfriend could be a bit warying when you weren't in the mood to be his damsel in distress.

**A/N2: Thanks for reading! I love writing France and England, but who am I kidding? I love writing all of them. I'm probably going to write a little one shot with Canada going home and telling Kumajirou all about his traumatizing day, it'll probably be posted seperately from this because it might upset the flow of things, just FYI. Btw, in rereading this I realized that first I had England drink, then I had him drive France and then himself home... oopsy, that's irresponsible of him. At least I specified that he was just tipsy? ^_^; **

**I've always imagined him driving pretty slowly and carefully, so at least there's that.**


	9. Go Go Gadget Television!

**A/N: Hey y'all, I wrote that Canada one shot, so I figured I should link to it since its technically in the same timeline as this. It won't let me write fanfiction at the beginning for some reason, so just pretend its there and remember to put it in first, haha.**

**/s/7103951/1/bCanada_bs_bLament_b The events in Canada's Lament go on pretty much at the same time as the events in this chapter. **

**Comments are always appreciated.**

**Enjoy!**

America made no more attempts at whisking Japan home in his arms. He hoped that someday he'd get to sweep a swooning Japan of his feet to safety, but he had sense enough to realize that then was not the time.

The house they returned to was dark as America let them in.

"Hey dude! Tonny! I'm home." He called into the dark, adjusting his glasses. "You still up? I brought Japan."

They found Tonny in the living room, tucked up on the couch, looking comfortable in his seat, the televisions light reflecting off his gray skin. The creature asked a question Japan was not positive he was supposed to understand.

"Unh, hello Mr. Tonny. It is very good of you and America to have me over for the night." He bowed his head briefly, hoping it was a satisfactory response.

"Yah, he's stayin' over." America answered with a grin. "We're gonna' watch that movie I just got, you can totally watch it too if ya' want. But you have to move over." He waved his hand and Tonny slid to the far right of the couch and muttered something in response. America dropped loosely next to Tonny and turned to look back at their guest.

"Haha, don't just stand there! C'mon!" He patted the cushion next to him invitingly. Japan sat down gently beside him as America poked Tonny in his thin side."You should put in the movie." He said expectantly.

The alien's eyes narrowed briefly, but he rose without any real resentment and crossed to the DVD player. America scratched his head and turned to look at the quiet Japan. "So, ya' want anything? Like, to drink?"

"Sure, thank you." He nodded.

"So, you could have water (but that's boring!), or milk, or soda, I've got juice. Oh! You should drink the juice, its good!"

"Oh, what kind of juice is it?" Japan looked at the excited country beside him, mostly silhouetted in the dark room, eyes lit from the televisions glow.

"It's like this special fruit punch. It's awesome."

"Alright."

America pulled himself over the back of the couch, briskly leaving the room. In his absence Tonny had successfully cued up their movie and climbed back onto the couch, clicker in hand. The alien looked at Japan, greeting his eyes with his own giant ones. Japan smiled politely, shifting unsurely in his seat. He briefly wondered if he was supposed to state his intentions with the alien's room-mate, and went so far as to open his mouth, still unsure as to his exact explanation, but determined to speak. He was, however, interrupted by America's loud re-entrance to the room. America braced his free hand on Japan's shoulder, and once again chose not to bother walking around the much abused furniture in order to sit down.

"Yo, here." He pushed a cool glass into Japan's hand as he settled in and slung his closer leg over one of his boyfriend's. America slipped the remote from Tonny's hand and threw his other arm over the couch's back.

The warm relaxed muscles of America's thigh and knees crux was pleasant for Japan, although he still found himself unduly stiff, sneaking glances at Tonny as America hit play.

"Go go Gadget television!"

"What?" Japan's focus moved to America.

"Oh, it's just an expression. Look, this is already kickass." He commented, turning his attention back to the screen. He thought he saw Japan lean forward and look across him at Tonny a couple of times, but he wasn't sure. He had been hoping that an alien wouldn't count for 'in front of people', but the guy seemed focused on the presence. America knew Japan had always been interested in the alien's existence, and thought that could have been the cause. However, he decided that maybe it wouldn't be realistic to hope he might get to watch the film with Japan in his lap. There was always next time?

Tonny excused himself briefly to microwave some popcorn, and was sent back to the kitchen once with orders to 'put a real amount of butter on it' from his room-mate. The large popcorn bowl found residence in America's lap, but he was fairly good about sharing. "Ah, guys! Check that out, so friggin' cool!" He would exclaim occasionally to draw his more stayed companion's attention to an explosion he found particularly impressive.

Japan seemed to be enjoying the film, although the guns didn't thrill him to the degree that they did his western paramour. He was long used to the other's unbridled enthusiasm when it came to action, real or imagined. They had quickly settled into a comfortable joint viewing, letting the dark and the gentle glow of some buff hero's exploits sooth them, quiet, aside from America's excited outbursts, Tonny's responses, and an occasional question from Japan. America had removed the welcome intrusion of his leg in a particular bout of excitement. Japan regretted the absence and compensated by simply ceasing to resist the natural tilt of the plush cushions that urged his hip to rest gently against America's, who didn't seem to notice the contact. The lack of acknowledgement let him enjoy it without embarrassment.

* * *

><p>Approximately half way through the film their primary host initiated an unofficial intermission. He presented them sadly with an empty bowl. "Gotta' get more popcorn." He said with an air of resigned inevitability, and stood. Japan watched him leave the room. <em>We have already eaten dinner.<em>

Japan found himself looking forward to the film's finish. He did want to get to know his boyfriend's alien friend, but some quality time with America was what he craved, although he did not intend to voice that desire. He was very patient, and could enjoy the movie in the mean time.

When America settled back down, flashing Japan a brief but wide smile, he sat with a leg and an arm up against him, re-initiating comfortable consistent touch, and set his hand over Japan's, fingers aligned. Japan, knowing their hands were thoroughly out of Tonny's line of sight, received the gesture gratefully (only twitching slightly and briefly). America's hands seemed to always be warm, something he greatly appreciated.

As the film's hero embraced his buxomy blond love interest, Japan could not help but ponder the fact that he had always assumed a woman like that would be just America's type, not his dark eyed, raven haired, very male self. He had never thought that the loud and brash blond would be his boyfriend either, so it wasn't as if he could put great stock in such initial assumptions.

America always identified strongly with fictional heroes such as that one, being, at least in his own opinion, the most impressive real world hero in existence. He didn't need fiction to fuel his fantasies of heroics concerning Japan, but it certainly wasn't helping. The reserved man would probably have been quite embarrassed and unnerved had he been able to see America's thoughts on the ways in which he hoped to be his hero. Japan wasn't exactly the type to dramatically fling himself into his lover's strong awaiting arms, nor to cling lovingly onto him, ready to be whisked out of harm's way; but that did not mean America did not enjoy envisioning it.

Sometime close to their entertainment's end, Tonny fell asleep. Sleeping aliens was not something Japan usually got to witness, and he eyed the sight thoroughly. When the credits rolled, America turned to Japan, one finger held in front of his lips in the universal gesture for quiet. He scooped up his roommate and let the large head droop sleepily against his chest. He carried him from the room, presumably to tuck Tonny into bed, leaving Japan to wait on the couch. He yawned and rubbed at his tired brown eyes, letting his head fall back and studied the relatively high ceiling. He could hear America's murmuring voice from a nearby room, Tonny must have woken. He became determined that he should remain awake at least until America returned, realizing that if he dozed off America might very well carry him to bed. He found himself both moved by the prospect and horrified by the possibility. He clenched his jaw; he had waited patiently all day for a little relaxing time, and he did not want to waste all of it with unconsciousness. Japan succeeded in remaining awake, but his burning eyes insisted on getting to be shut, conscious or not. He used the temporary quiet to take a moment to clear his mind and center himself, but was soon pulled from his meditation, eyes opening, when he felt lips land on his forehead. America leaned over the back of his couch, having gone uncharacteristically unnoticed, and taken the opportunity of Japan's inward focus to plant a quick kiss to his temple.

"Wake up! You can't crash yet!" He happily poked him where his lips had previously been. America's romantic inclinations often came with an extra side of good hearted immaturity.

"I was not asleep." Japan said, crossing his eyes to look at the invading pink finger. America responded by wiggling it back and forth, creating an irritating tickling sensation.

"Then up and at 'em! You don't want to sleep on the couch d'ya'?"

"No." Japan shook his head and sat up straight. "Are we going to your room? I don't have anything to sleep in." He realized belatedly.

"No worries, I'm lending you my Christmas pair."

"Oh. Thank you." Japan wondered if most Christian nations had Christmas pajamas, and if they did, what they looked like. He always celebrated Christmas with Germany and Italy, that's the way it had been for years, and so he was pretty sure neither of them had special Christmas sleep wear. He hoped America wouldn't be hurt that he spent his Christmases with the rest of the old Axis. He usually attended America's party, but the actual night before and of he would always spend with his two closest friends.

"Piggy back ride?" America interrupted his detached train car of thought.

"What?"

"Do you want a piggy back ride to my room?"

"…"

"Like I put you on my back, and you hold onto my shoulders and I hold your legs. It's fun. Didn't China ever carry you that way when you were little? England would on occasion."

"I—No, he didn't." Japan shook his sleepy head.

"So, you want up?"

"Uhh, I don't kn—why?" Japan had stayed awake so fervently as to avoid being carried, but then again, a 'piggy back ride', although not the most dignified thing in the world, was certainly different than being carried princess style. America's blue eyes were hopeful and wide, boring down at him. Japan was starting to suspect that carrying him was some sort of weird thing for America.

"For fun. 'Cause you're all sleepy anyway." He explained, eyes growing even wider.

Japan felt his resolve weakened by guilt, he had said no to America an awful lot that day. He sighed. "Alright…" He rubbed the back of his head. "We can-We can do that…" Japan conceded.

America's smile brightened. "Awesome. Stand up on the couch." He walked all the way in front of the piece of furniture. Japan, slightly unsteady on the malleable cushions, pushed himself to his feet, worrying about the structure of the complaining couch beneath him. America turned his back and looked over his shoulder.

"so, would you like me to just…"

"Hop on!"

Japan set his hands on America's waiting shoulders and leaned forward. He pushed a leg up towards America's torso experimentally. He really felt like jumping on him was a bad idea. Luckily, the second time he lifted a leg to his side the blond curled an arm under it, giving Japan the encouragement and physical support he needed to clamber onto his boyfriend's back. America adjusted his grip on Japan's legs and hoisted him up a little higher. He figured that dropping him part way there would probably set an unfortunate and hard to undo precedent.

"Off we go, hold on!" America announced as he took off in a sprint. Japan tightened his hold on the country's shoulders, he had not been expecting America to want to run in the house. As they quickly rounded corners, Japan was not positive that he hadn't run them in a circle just because he was having fun running around. When he ran them into his room, Japan was made to wonder if he was pretending to be a plane. It certainly looked as if America was pretending to be a plane. Japan thought it was sort of cute, but he also felt that no one could ever know of it, especially since he wasn't finding it completely unpleasant, maybe even a little fun. America turned his back to his bed and gave Japan's leg a soft pat.

"This is our stop!"

Japan slipped backwards onto the blankets, noticing a pair of pajamas with little green trees printed all over them. America walked to his bureau and deposited his glasses, rubbing his now incapacitated blue eyes. "I'm gonna' go wash up real quick, k'?"

Japan nodded. During America's absence he pulled on the warm soft pajamas, and discovered he liked the feel of them, although they hung somewhat loose on his thin body. He turned down the blankets and crawled into bed, leaning against the large mound of pillows. _This cannot be good for America's back._ He thought, pressing into the thick mattress with his hands as he bounced gently for a moment.

America returned, skin clean and hair slightly damp. "Those look good on you, I think. I can't see very well like this." America laughed as he crawled over Japan to his side of the bed.

"Oh. Thank you. They are very comfortable." Japan gently grasped America's hand underneath the thick comforter.

"I love you dude." America announced.

"I love you too." Japan liked say, having said it once before, the second time made it feel confirmed. Plus, he liked that America had said it first this time.

America wriggled down into a laying position and yanked Japan down by the hand to join him. He let out a surprised yelp as he was pulled flat onto the soft mattress by America who had enthusiastically grasped the cool white covers and threw them above their heads, burying them comfortably. "Welcome to my lair!"

"Thank you, I am glad to be here."

"Did you make blanket forts when you were little?" He asked suddenly.

"No. Did you?"

"Yah, they're awesome. Do you want to make one?"

"Right now?"

"Yah!" America nodded enthusiastically.

Japan's body felt limp and heavy, he was too tired to play. "I'm sorry America, but I am quite tired. Maybe we could do that in the morning."

"Oh. Yah, okay. The couch cushions work really well for that, and Tonnys great at making the doorways."

Japan hadn't actually thought they would be building childish forts the next morning, but America was apparently set on it.

"Oh." Was all he said, unsure of what the correct response to Tonny's blanket fort building skills was.

America grasped the hand from Japan's other side up to his face and pressed the smooth knuckles against his lips.

"You've got cute hands."

"Th-Thank you. You have nice hands also."

America's fingers moved down onto Japan's wrist, rubbing the slightly protruding bone gently with his thumb and pulled it over his chest, letting the arm spill over his body and bringing Japan's face onto his shoulder. Japan didn't lift his tired head to met America's eyes, but he let himself melt into the hard shoulder, his forehead resting against the soft peach neck that smelled of soap.

"Heh. You really are tired." America had angled his head to look. He grasped and lifted the arm that was over him and dropped it unceremoniously back down to his chest uncaught. "See. That's how they check cats for exhaustion. But you prolly knew that, you love cats. Don't you have a dog too though?"

Japan nodded into his neck. "Pochi." He mumbled sleepily.

"Cute name." America rested his hand on the skin above the other's revealed elbow and enjoyed the sensation of the flesh beneath his fingers. "Ya' know, I bet you'll be good at fort building. I mean, I rock at it, but, I bet you'd be good at it since you're good at buildin' stuff. Do you really have Gundams you made?" He asked, but received no response to any of his comments. "Yo, dude?" He nudged him and received only a small guttural noise in response. Japan was asleep.

**A/N: As always, thanks for reading!**


	10. Neither Tall, Nor Heavy, Nor Easy As Pie

**A/N: **

**Hi! Y'all have no idea how sorry I am that it took me so long to get this up. Moving someone into the house and irritating health stuff kicked my writing time in the head. Plus, I was also just having trouble getting motivated and spreading my attention between all my creative endeavors. **

**It will not take the same amount of time to get up the next chapter. if you've dedicated the time to reading this far, taking the extra couple seconds to comment is always greatly appreciated. **

**As always, I hope you enjoy. **

America glared furiously at the water, which, he felt was being truly and needlessly defiant. He gripped the counter in frustration as he reminded himself that disagreements with the inanimate could not be won by force.

"America?" The voice on the other end of the line reminded him of its 'presence'.

"Yah? What England? I'm concentrating."

"For the love of… You do realize who called who, right? This should not be a difficult task."

"Hey, I'm probably awesome at this, its not my fault you suck at giving directions."

A scoff sounded from the other end of the line in response. "Does the alien of yours understand English?"

"Yah, 'course."

"Please give it the phone."

"Tony!"

The alien wandered into the room and America held out the phone. Tony asked who it was.

"its England. For you, I guess."

Tony accepted it and appeared to be listening, and nodded his head on occasion. The one sided conversation lasted only a few moments, but America grew impatient quickly. He didn't have all morning after all. He tapped his fingers along the counter top and listened to the almost inaudible murmur of whatever information England was imparting to America's small statured house mate. Tony nodded once definitively and made a noise England could probably interpret, if only from the tone. The alien held out the phone for America's reclaiming.

"Yo, what was that about?"

"I have given it very specific and quite facile instructions, that as far as I can tell, it understands better than you have. So, just try doing as it tells you and hopefully the task will be completed without any major disasters. I'd also like to point out that I told you that you would grow to like it eventually." England couldn't resist saying.

Rebellion bristled within the younger brother. "S'not for me! I have Japan visiting this morning for…" he realized he probably shouldn't have said that, but his pride was on the line, and his pride was very, very important, "for pie. I am… teaching him about pie…"

Tony shook his head at the lie.

"Oh, I see. I didn't realize you would want to eat-or well, teach, about pie at this early hour. I honestly wasn't aware that you rose before noon." England responded.

"Hey, I'm super responsible and stuff, I'm up when I need to be. Listen man, I gotta go, I have all this super important stuff to do right now."

"Very well. Good luck and all that."

"Yup, later!" America ended the call and looked at Tony, feeling pretty sure that he didn't need his help. Tony pushed a small stool to the counter and joined America there. He pulled everything needed into America's immediate vicinity and explained the simple task in equally simple and brief terms. America thought it sounded easy and to the point, and probably should have been embarrassed by his previous failure, but he wasn't. He set to work with determination, following the few easy steps faithfully. He was going to finish before Japan woke up, that he was absolutely set on. Tony just watched and silently made sure that his friend's use of the stove wasn't going to end in a fire.

* * *

><p>Japan had awoken alone, his back sore from the absurdly soft mattress he'd spent the night on. Siiting up, and wiping the sleep from his face, he attempted to adjust to the bright light. America's absence planted a small worry, having never known him to be an early riser. Japan peaked his dark head out of the bedroom's door, he couldn't help but wonder where Tony was, and whether it would be socially inappropriate to be seen emerging from America's room, but he realized if Tony was awake he would have already known that Japan was not asleep on the couch. He knew that Tony had been made aware of their relationship, but still felt that it was best to not make a show of such private things. What should be public was, after all, a very different thing than what is privately acceptable for Japan.<p>

Japan had always thought America's house was strangely formal and old fashioned in parts of it, but it did occur to him that the house was not infact America's own doing, having been set up there as a child by his older brother. Never being one to be comfortable making himself at home within someone else's house, Japan moved around very softly, tending to peak around corners before going forward.

"America?" He called out, probably not projecting enough to be heard outside of the room he was in.

_He should have left me a note, that is what I did. It's the polite thing to do. Where would America spend his morning? _ He paused, deciding to reason out his problem. _ He said he wanted to make blanket forts, either they are very secretive forts, or he is doing something else. What would be able to distract America from what he wanted to do? Ah! He is probably eating!_ It occurred to Japan that if he found the food, he would probably find America.

* * *

><p>"See, I told England I would be good at this, its easy as pie, and actually tastes pretty not gross like this, right?" America gloated to his alien. Tony was pretty sure that America should have been able to accomplish the task on the 1st try, but he knew better than to say so. The sound of footsteps drew the attention of both of the kitchen's ihabitents.<p>

"America? There you are. I could not find you two. Good morni—"

"I made tea!" America exclaimed, moving out of Japan's view of his counter and looked immensely pleased with imself. "Tony helped." He tacked on, still grinning broadly.

Japan did not think he would have been more shocked if America had announced his intention to become a werewolf. Mouth agape, he tore his eyes from the beaming America to stare at the cups and kettle on the counter.

"I didn't know we still had one of these." America gestured loosely towards the pot.

"You… made tea?"

"Chamomile!"

"Oh." Japan composed himself. "Well, thank you very much. That is quite considerate." America thrust a mug towards him, still clearly feeling quite proud of himself. Japan smiled, accepting it and realizing how sweet he found the gesture. He brought the mug to his lips, and letting the first of the unusually light liquid onto his tongue, he froze.

_Do not make a face._ He ordered himself. The tea was sweet, overwhelmingly so. Considering the other nation's taste, a fair amount of sugar was not a surprise, but the liquid in his off put mouth barely even tasted like tea. Since it was English, cream and sugar were the tradition, but having a long standing friendship with his fellow tea appreciator, England, he knew that the ratio of water to sweetener and cream was quite startlingly amiss. It practically tasted like butter. He swallowed it anyway (with more than a little concern for his stomach), and smiled.

"It is very good, thank you." He took another sip. The smile America gave him, proving that the country could somehow do so even wider, made him more determined to act well, but dear god, did Japan feel sick. "Are you going to have any?" He asked, wondering if America had tried the odd concoction.

"Yup." The blond nodded. "I liked it way more than I usually like tea." He actually took a happy gulp. "Not that you're not good at it, 'course." He remarked for good measure.

Japan figured he could drink it, he would drink it, for America. But there was no way he could nurse the thing, he needed to get it over with. Taking a larger sip, he felt his stomach warn him against too much provocation, and made it clear that were it pushed enough, it would rebel in good conscience. However, Japan was good at many things, and conquering rebellion was certainly one of them, having done so quite a few times in his long history. His stomach (a brainless organ) would not overcome a will like his.

"Good. Glad ya' like it." America reached forward and tossled his hair playfully. Japan wasn't a fan of that new action but it would take more than a little messy hair to destroy the mood America's odd little romantic gesture, as unsavory as its taste was, had given him.

"You can drink that and wake up, or whatever, while Tony and I get started."

"Started with what?"

"Building."

* * *

><p>Japan sat, legs crossed, mug in hand as Tony and America moved about the room energetically. He had been placed in the corner and was sitting in America's recliner, where some of the other furniture to be used had been pushed out of the way. He gripped the cup tightly, noticing the frequency with which pillows were thrown in between his two hosts.<p>

"Finish up man! You gotta' help too!" His enthusiastic America informed him as he pulled the couch from the corner, and proceeded to use it to anchor a large sheet to.

Japan's previous plan to finish his drink quickly had been waylaid by his fear of participation in the odd ritual he was witnessing. Tony said something in concurrence with America's loud sentiments. Japan steeled himself for the shenanigans, reminded himself he was a guest, and downed his remaining beverage in one brave gulp. He stood and dusted himself off as he stepped forward. America, who grinned at Japan as he set his mug off to the side, was pulling a sheet taut in between the couches back and the table that had been dragged in earlier as Tony pushed a few soft pillows into Japan's arms and gestured for him to follow. Tony knelt at the outermost side of the table and began piling pillows into a very fluffy wall, and Japan foolowed suit. America gave them both a quick thumbs up as he retrieved an automon from the furniture corner. He pushed it to sit a few feet from the unused side of the table and began to drape a second sheet from where the front ended to the other side of the automon.

"Ton', what are we using as room dividers?"

The alien shrugged in response. America paused, as if to ponder something. Japan found himself wondering whether America had actually taken the time to learn a foreign language (an alien one, at that), or if Tony and America just had some sort of odd connection or bond.

"Dude," he was snapped back into focus with the realization that America was vying for his attention. "We need more blankets. There's a linen closet down the hall, can you go get 'em?"

"Yes, if that would be helpful." If Japan was going to help with such a task, he might asd well do it properly. After receiving brief directions to the whereabouts of the blankets, he was off. Upon finding the closet, he quickly discovered that the content's jumble was mildly horrifying. Japan felt dwarfed by the large pile of bedding, bu was determined to escort the blankets back to his friends as requested. He figured that they wouldn't need more than a blanket and a couple sheets to complete the fort. He found an opportune crease in the mountain to fit his arms into as he went on tiptoe, and then he pulled. Japan felt regret begin to seep into him before he had even finished the action, and the sudden sinking feeling was proven to be a wise reaction. He attempted to brace himself against the soft looming tower, but it was tall, it was heavy, and he was neither. The surprised noise that escaped his mouth was swallowed by the avalanche. Japan lay there on the floor, buried in America's bedding, his limbs pinned awkwardly. It was deceptively heavy, seeing as they were the entire contents of a sizeable linen closet. He sighed and took a moment to just gaze upwards. His pride would certainly not allow him to call for assistance, so he felt fine taking a breath before he began his small journey back to the surface. Once he began pushing and untangling his way out, he made short work of it. Japan glared down at his inanimate ex-captor. There was no way he was going to just lazily stuff it all back in, so he settled back onto the floor to take the extra minute to set aside what America had asked for and then fold the rest so it would fit back in without the risk of another blanker slide occurring. He piled it all back in one by one and then allowed himself a short moment of admiration for his tidy handiwork.

"Dude?" America called from the sitting room. "You okay out there? Do I need to come, like, rescue you or something?"

"No, I am fine. I shall be right there." He assured him and picked up the required blankets and returned from whence he came. "I am sorry that it took m—Oh my!" Japan was greeted with a surprising sight. The fort had certainly evolved in his absence. "This is quite impressive, are you still in need of these?" He looked down at what he held.

"Yup, Ton' needs 'em for the doorways. Give 'em here." America held out his arms and received them. "So," he continued as he passed them onto the alien, "We'll just get those one there, and then we'll play!" He looked more serious momentarily. "And eat! We should eat too."

"Oh. Play? I—unh, I do have some obligations later today…"

"Yah, thas' fine, we can still chill and do some cool stuff here first though!" America said difinitevely.

"Alright, but, you said play. Are we going to play something?"

The blond nodded with knowing satisfaction. "Yup, 'course. We have a fort after all!" his gaze was averted contemplatively. "I wonder if we still have water balloons..."

Tonny nodded in confirmation from his small construction spot by his forming blanket doors.

"Oh." Japan bit the inside of his cheek with trepidation. "Water balloons…"

**A/N2: Thanks for reading! I love tea so much, but I have to admit I have been told that the way I make it makes the stuff taste like butter. Sorry if this chap. didn't seem super eventful, its one of those chapters that wasn't always as fun to write as some of the others, but is necessary for the story's progression. **


	11. Book Covers,Bad Thoughts,&Water Balloons

**A/N: Hey everybody, this chapter was super fun to write. Its longer and I like it much more than the last one. If you've read this far, and especially if you like it enough to have favorited it or put it on your alert list, you should leave a comment, they always make my day, and it only takes a couple seconds!**

**As always, please enjoy!**

Japan pressed his back up against the ottoman-turned-bastion and tried to ignore the trickling down his face. He rubbed his fingers over the damp engorged rubber in his hand and silently cursed the first person who thought that filling a balloon fit to bursting with water was at all wise. He was, however, immensely grateful he had convinced America that any other liquid besides water would be a terrible idea. He had never been quite as thankful for America's new found romantic persona, or missed it quite as sorely, as the moment the first water balloon collided with his head, courtesy of his boyfriend.

Japan may not have angered easily, but there were several countries who would have been very willing to swear that it was something you never wanted to be on the receiving end of, and had the scars to prove it.

Splattering noises with accompanying laughter reverberated through America's living room. If England knew the suffering of the initial pieces he had installed back in the day, he would have been horrified.

Japan knew he needed to devise a plan. Simply hiding it out was not very honorable behavior after all. The calculating nation pivoted onto his knees and rested his hands on his shielding ottoman as he brought his eyes up to furtively scan the room. They weren't looking in his direction, much to Japan's appreciation. America seemed to currently be in possession of the bag of balloons. Attaining that bag was the key to getting to be dry.

_Hmm, what would be the best choice of action for this situation? I could attempt to catch him by surprise. No, if he did not see me somehow, Tony would. I could throw this lamp at him…No, that would seriously do some severe harm. Shall I just charge forward at him? No, that would be unwise. I could gain it through seductive action. No, that is inappropriate, Tony would see, so it would also be quite embarrassing._ Japan let a small smile appear when he finally realized a plan of action. He was only currently in possession of one balloon, so Japan knew that he needed to make it count. First things first, he needed America closer, with a clear path to him, that is where the balloon came i n of course. He slinked to the side of his ottoman and lifted himself up long enough to lob the balloon at a pre-occupied America. The laughing country flinched in surprise as he felt something pop and splatter against his shoulder, causing him to spin around and ignore his previously intended alien target.

"Ha!" America wiped at his newly wet limb. "There y'are!" He said triumphantly as he raced around the fort to Japan's location. Japan had spent that small window of time pulling the taught sheet from the ottoman, the last thing interfering with his plan. America sprang excitedly into his line of sight and Japan popped back to his feet, employing a tactic that would probably only work on a select few nations.

"America!" He pointed off in the very useful direction that is so vaguely referred to as 'over there', "Look!" He tried to wear his best surprised expression. Luckily, America did indeed look, almost to Japan's surprise. What did he have to fear after all? Japan was out of balloons.

Japan inwardly congratulated himself as the other revealed his back. The Asian country proceeded to outstretch a short leg, making harsh contact with the ottoman that sent it gliding across the floor, barreling into America's unsuspecting legs. They buckled as he tumbled backwards over it, toppling to the floor with a yelp and a thud. Japan acted quickly so as to not miss his narrow opportunity to cause this dampening and nerve wracking activity to come to secession. He dropped to his sore knees beside the prone America and grabbed the sack of filled balloons gratefully. As he attempted to return to his feet, Japan's relief was knocked out of him right along with his breath. The shocked nation found himself on his back, body tightening from the cold water on the floor seeping into his clothes, with a grinning America looking down at him. America responded promptly to Japan's first attempt to get up by firmly grasping his damp shoulder and pushing it back to the floor, pressing him down strongly but not too harshly. America's skin was tinted a light peach from his playful exertions, his hair was matted and dripping, darkened by its wetness. Japan used his freer arm to grab for as many of the few water projectiles that had survived America's fall. He gripped three as best he could and pressed them firmly to his "captor's" chest with a satisfying pop. The blond looked to the hand against him in surprise, his mouth hung open slightly, and began to crack a smile as Japan repeated the motion in an attempt to be rid of balloons, and perhaps to win back some of the dignity being pinned to the floor costs you. America couldn't help but laugh, an adorably stiff Japan beneath him on the slick floor, one dripping hand filled with rubber shreds pressed up against America's chest.

"Ya, know," he said with a chuckle, "If Tony wasn't here, I'd totally do stuff to ya'." America informed through his bold grin.

Japan sputtered and pulled his hand back to his own body. "Wh-What?" Japan asked, sounding rather horrified.

"Not bad stuff!" America did his best to sound reassuring. "Fun stuff, and like, not if you didn't want me to, obviously."

"E-Excuse me?" Japan did not look reassured.

Tony made a loud coughing noise, letting his roommate know that he could do without the performance.

"Okay, Okay." He rolled his blue eyes with an added wink at the red Japan below him and got to his feet. Japan rose immediately as to avoid being helped up. He wasn't sure whether or not he'd be able to meet the alien's eyes again that day, Tony having overheard America's very private statement.

"So, lunch?" The dripping blond threw out, not appearing, rather, not sounding awkward, as Japan was keeping his eyes focused intensely away, there was really no way he knew how anyone else actually looked. Tony sounded like he agreed.

"Unh, well, actually…" Japan began, "Don't we need to clean up before we are to do anything else? Also, I must fulfill personal obligations today at my own house, should probably set about doing so sooner rather than later." He gave looking at America a try, definitely not ready to attempt locking eyes with Tony.

"Oh." America scratched his damp face with a slight air of disappointment. "kay. I'm not really planning on dealin' with this stuff now either way. Do ya' need to go home now?"

As much as Japan cared for America, he was wet, tired, embarrassed, and Tama and Pochi were hungry.

"I must feed my pets." He nodded apologetically.

"Then, I guess I'll drive you home." America gave him a smile that made him almost forget just how tired and wet he was.

"Thank you, that would be much appreciated. Thank you for having me over, and thank you Tony." He said, using the alien's forehead as replacement for his eyes.

Their ride home was pleasant. America had jokingly apologized for hitting him in the face with a balloon. They had held hands after much assurance from America that it would not cause him to crash the car. Italy had traumatized him thoroughly when it came to trusting Western countries to drive him about. Their goodbye kiss was particularly nice, although Japan had to do his best not to dwell on what America had said to him earlier on the floor.

* * *

><p>Japan rubbed the soft plush towel over his no longer sopping straight hair, and reminded himself that moderation in all things was one of the far most important attributes any honorable man should possess, and therefore, he should really tear his mind away from his wish to be kissing America again. He shook his slick disheveled head forcefully and dedicated himself fully to becoming dry. Despite a series of embarrassing moments from his weekend, it still caused a warm fuzzy feeling to settle on his skin. Four days was not a good measure of anything, but so far the this having a boyfriend ordeal was going far better then he would have ever imagined.<p>

Feeling quite surprised at himself for the idea, he realized he truly wanted to tell someone about his newfound romance. But who would he tell? Considering the two he was closest to, he was well aware that he and Germany's mutual respect for each other largely arose from their similarities, which meant there was absolutely no way he could discuss such a thing with him. Italy seemed to think himself quite the romantic expert, although his talent for secret keeping and tact was far less prominent. Being a nation who frequently evaluated himself, Japan knew that attempting to be more open with others was something that it would be wise to attempt. Maybe he would give Italy a call after all. He could at least give the prospect thought and weigh the possible consequences. There was no reason not to consider it logically. He knew that despite his status as a Catholic nation, Italy would have no objections to such a relationship, having been raised for the most part by countries who embraced such things: first the Roman Empire, and France later on. He would not make the decision that day, no matter what the decision came to be.

Japan had house cleaning to accomplish, and his animal friends deserved to be lavished with attention for their commendable patience with his socializing.

Once again, Japan's mind wandered back to America. He wanted the next time they saw each other to be able to return his hospitality and have him to his own home. But as Japan felt the color rise again to his cheeks, he reminded himself of the importance to have a day of distance in the name of moderation, the virtue of patience, and decency. Plus, he did not want to appear over eager to see him. He did not think that an invitation without any sort of activity in mind seemed very polite at all, so he would have to decide on something America might enjoy. Eating was always a good option, as was a film. Video games were a satisfactory idea also.

Japan set off to do his chores, deciding that letting his mind focus on work was often a wise choice when you had a few things to ponder.

* * *

><p>Japan had awoken the next morning with a message from America on his answering machine. Not all that unlike the kind of message he would have left before their change in status, but still brought a reluctant smile to his face and a blush to his cheeks. Tama brushed up against his master's legs, causing him to kneel down.<p>

"Good morning Tama." He scratched behind the cat's thankful ears. "Your papa has had a very interesting week. I may have not properly fulfilled my duties to you in that time, I shall do better in the future." He promised as he set the pet's food out in the garden.

* * *

><p>Canada stood in the kitchen, sandy blond hair askew from a god night's sleep. Kumajirou was propped against the microwave, the small bear nibbling on a piece of muffin his owner had crumbled off for him.<p>

"I need to think of a way to say so without making anyone uncomfortable, that's the real issue." The timid country continued on. Kumajirou nodded his small fuzzy head absent mindedly. "He's my brother, and Japan's my friend, so I need to make the effort to let them know that I totally accept them and their perfectly acceptable alternative life style!"

Canada was having trouble letting the subject of his brother's recently exposed romance drop. After he recovered from his initial shock, and quite frankly, horror, he had come to the conclusion that his shocked reaction could have come off hurtful, and was intent on rectifying the situation (even if America had handled it remarkably poorly). His stuffed pets had rapidly become bored by the subject (with the exception of one very off putting bunny rabbit).

"Maybe, uh…Maybe let it go, eh?" Kumajirou offered and reached a paw out for more muffin.

"You don't understand Kumi," the worryer passed his toy another scrumptious ball of muffin, "As infuriating as America is, he's my brother! And Japan must have been so very embarrassed. I should make it right!" He continued to insist.

"Write a letter; send a gift basket or something. I bet America's maple sucks in comparison to ours."

"That's a great idea! Who knows if Japan even has maple trees at his house? That's perfect Kuma!"

* * *

><p><strong>A Day Or Two Since We Last Visited Japan...<strong>

America placed the wobbling cardboard box onto the low table and pried apart its flaps.

"So, what kina' stuff's in this one?"

"That?" Japan leaned forward to pear into its contents. "That is things that others may appreciate, but I no longer need."

"Mm. If I find something really cool in it can I take it?" America asked as he excitedly ruffled through the box.

"Ah, I suppose so…It is very kind of you to help me with this venture America."

"Yah, no prob. I'm super good at sorting through stuff. You're too into the past; tradition and all that jazz, it's more fun not to think 'bout that stuff. Just go with the flow! Look to the future!" His voice continued to rise as he practically struck a pose.

Japan politely said nothing, and continued to examine the trinkets on the table in front of him.

"Your boss gonna' want any of this?"

"I wouldn't dispose of anything too historically valuable."

"I almost trashed the constitution once. Mine was so pissed."

Japan paused and attempted to decipher whether or not he was joking. He settled on no. "Oh dear, that would have been a very terrible mistake."

"Yah-Oh!" He pulled a small dagger from Japan's pile. "Can I have this? This is awesome."

"If you would like, that would be fine." Japan nodded as America set it aside on the floor beside him.

"So, is this stuff all set?"

"For the most part, there was not much clutter here to being with."

"So, any other rooms with stuff you're looking to clean out?"

Japan had decided that his house was no longer as minimalist as he preferred and figured getting rid of what he felt was clutter would be great for the atmosphere. He thought it was a good opportunity to invite America over, considering his enjoyment of coming to Japan's aid, even if it was from trinkets and odd unnecessary items.

"I think my book collection has over flooded. We could attend to that if it isn't too much trouble." Japan suggested.

"Not at all, but I expect you to feed me later."America's tone took on an unexpected air of seriousness at the mention of being fed.

"Oh! Of course! You would like to stay for dinner?"

"If you'll have me." The rambunctious blond winked playfully.

Japan's cheeks became rosy in meeting his gaze.

"Y-Yes, that would be very…That would be very nice."

Japan had a large library, He kept his books in a bright open room, shelves lined with things both very old and very new. Upon entering, America found himself dwarfed. The large wooden shelves seemed quite looming when he thought about sorting through them. He did not have endless patience, especially for books.

Japan had already set two sturdy boxes on the round table near the center of the room.

"When you have thousands of years to collect something, sometimes you get too much." Japan said in way of explanation upon noticing America's facial expression.

It never ceased to shock America how very old Japan was, far older than himself, older than France even.

"Yah, I bet." America scratched his forehead, momentarily off put by the thought of being so much his junior. "Soo, you need all o' these?"

"Most, but no, not all. Those shelves on the opposite wall may be left alone. Its mainly these two right here that must be attended to.

"Alrighty then, guess we should get started." America urged.

* * *

><p>A blond tired head lolled onto the table, the sound of shuffling pages grating his sleepy ears. This sorting process was taking longer than he had expected, but although America was many things, a quitter he was not.<p>

"America," Japan began quietly, "if you are too tired, we may stop and eat now."

"Nah, I'm fine." He assured. His being face down made the statement very unconvincing.

Japan frowned as he watched the fatigued America refuse his offer to cease sorting. He tapped the book in his grasp contemplatively.

"Would you like coffee?"

America visibly perked. "You got coffee?"

Japan shyly nodded.

"Yah, that'd be good." He said through a yawn.

"Alright, I shall be back in a moment." Japan left his book on the table and ambled out of the library, America pushed back his chair and stood slowly, pressing his hands in the base of his spine as he stretched. A second smaller yawn escaped as he rubbed his eyes. America absent mindedly crossed the darkened room to the book case and ran a slim finger down the spine of one of the many books. His eyes fell to the left to a few books that had so far remained untouched and Japan had directed him away from multiple times. Even if Japan knew he was keeping a book, he still had let America flip through if he was curious, with the exception of these. He wasn't perceptive enough to find it suspicious, but he was definitely curious. Not one for waiting and twiddling his thumbs, America focused in on the book with the prettiest calligraphy on its spine and pulled it free. The insides were disappointing, nothing but writing he couldn't understand. So, he grabbed the next one over, although he found the outsides less appealing. However, you know what they say about books and their covers. America flipped it open casually, attempting to kill the time, and was met with quite the surprise. After the first few pages of Japanese writing, he came upon a very artful illustration. Pleased at having found a medium in need of no translation, he continued to meander through its pages more slowly, when he came face to face with what, if he didn't know Japan, he would have sworn was pornography. A yellow eyebrow shot up as he flipped to the next page that, to his surprise, seemed to fall in the same category as the previous picture.

_Okay, there's no way this one isn't dirty, she's totally naked._ Turning the page he came face to face with a picture far more explicit than either of the last. It looked old and skillfully drawn, but those were not the attributes that currently absorbed our confused hero. _Woah. I wonder if he knows he has this thing? Its his book, guess he must. That's… A lot of dick. Dudes look like they're really enjoying that._ He held the book back to get a better over view, letting it hang vertically from one hand, holding the pages straight and aligned with the other. _I wouldn't mind doing that, if he let me. Wonder if he'd let me do that… I don't really know how flexible he is, bu—_

"I have your coffee." A voice from the doorway made his thoughts jump and stumble away from their pleasant contemplation, and crash firmly into panic.

"Nothing!" he spun around. "I mean, cool, yah, thanks."

Japan furrowed his brow, confused by America's odd reaction. America bit his lip.

_Don't think about doing that._ America urged himself.

Japan smiled a small unsure smile as he stepped forward and pushed the coffee towards him, causing America to realize he was still holding the book. They both looked down at America's occupied hands. Japan blinked rapidly, his expression changing to one of horror.

"I, ah, like the cover on this, haven't bothered sorting while you were gone, 'cause I figured, even if I started cracking the books open, I couldn't read it anyway, so, hope that's fine." He lied rapidly.

"Oh." Japan did not look as if he was breathing. "So, you did not look in this one?" He asked faux-casually, voice high.

"Nah."

"Oh." He appeared to finally take in a little oxygen.

"Trade ya'"

"Ah, yes, here," Japan gratefully handed over the coffee in return for the book, relief flooding him as he regained it and pulled it to his chest, arms crossed possessively over it.

America took a swig of his new coffee. Hopefully the caffeine would jolt away thoughts of any acrobatic re-enactments with the nation in front of him. He couldn't tear his eyes from the recovering Japan who was slipping the book back to its rightful place, and attempting to catch his breath. America very nearly spilled the coffee on himself multiple times as they returned to sorting. He had quickly folded and suggested they set about eating their dinner, knowing his resolve to not ask about the books was weakening, and figuring it would be best to have his mouth occupied.

Japan had made dumplings, much to America's relief and joy. He filled the time with mostly meaningless continuous babble in the hope that keeping talking would prevent him from making the type of proposition that would have most likely gotten him slapped right there across the dinner table. He had departed quickly after they ate, his goodbye kiss was far more vigorous than he had intended, pulling Japan tightly up against his body. America practically threw himself into the cool dark air once Japan had shut the door, relief and disappointment flooded him simultaneously. America let a sigh out into the night.

_Damn books._

_**A/N: Poor America, trying to be a gentleman. This was really fun to write, it helped to cure my lack of writing flow. I figured that somebody other than Italy would stumble upon those books eventually, and I have been exited to use that for so long. XD **_

_**Also, I absolutely love writing Canada and his stuffed animals. At this point it might have made more sense for Canada's Lament to have been published in Steam, but I still feel like it would have interrupted the flow, so I'm glad its like this.  
><strong>_

_**As always, comments bring joy to my heart, so feel free to leave them. **_

_**Thanks for reading and I hope it gave you much enjoyment!**  
><em>


	12. Maple Flavored Guilt

**A/N: I feel so terrible about my lack of updates recently, but things just keep interfering with me writing this. But it's here now, and I shall work hard to not wait so long to update next time! **

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**Enjoy!**

Japan flipped the small cream colored card over in his hand; the other was mindlessly resting on the handle of a small, well woven, wicker basket. Tama sat quietly beside him, for all though he was a cat, he shared Japan's distaste for constant attention upon himself.

The note was short and polite, the handwriting neat but informal, and a small red maple leaf adorned the corner. The basket's contents were mostly food, and more specifically, mostly maple. Candies, muffins, syrups, and bacon were all piled pleasingly together in their respective packaging.

Japan placed the card respectfully away into his sleeve to inspect its contents, knowing the gift had a social significance more substantial than the sugary goods.

_I cannot eat all of this. _He acknowledged plainly to himself. The country enjoyed food far more than most would assume when faced with his thin frame, but one thing he had never quite grown used to was the overwhelming mounds of carbohydrates that had migrated from the West. After all, he was a man, and men don't gorge themselves on pastry and candy.

* * *

><p>Japan rung the bell and waited, basket in hand, for Germany to receive him. Italy would also be joining them, having always possessed a sixth sense for when a social situation he wanted in on was about to occur.<p>

"Japan!" As the door was flung open there was no doubt as to the answerer's identity. With a flash of brown hair and a very distinctive curl, Japan was quickly absorbed into a tight embrace, his basket crushed between the two nations.

"Hello Italy" He said into the hair pressed against his face.

"Japan!" He repeated, and pushed the other away, while retaining his hold on Japan's arms. "It has been forever! Months, maybe years!"

"It has been approximately one week." A stern voice corrected from the hallway as Germany came into view. "Hello Japan, come in. Italy, move out of the way! You are being rude!"

Italy's face dropped into a pout, but he stepped aside none the less. Japan entered, thankful for Germany's intervention.

"Since I could not possibly eat all this, I figured you two might enjoy some. They are a gift from Canada."

"Oh! Let me see!" Italy snatched the basket away to rummage through it excitedly. Germany smiled his tight gruff smile and thanked him for his thoughtfulness, glared at Italy momentarily for his breach of proper conduct, and led them both to his living room.

* * *

><p>Tony lay on the bed deciding whether he felt like paying attention. America was talking, and had been talking, for quite some time. America twisted appraisingly in front of his mirror.<p>

"I mean, I'm like totally irresistible, right?" he stated more then asked, "No way anybody wouldn't be into this!" He confirmed to himself as he ran his hands over his stomach.

* * *

><p>"You and your brother, I swear to God, savages, the both of you, that is not what you eat that with." England scolded.<p>

Canada stared down at his plate, ashamed to be receiving such negative attention.

"ohhonhon, my little maple leaf, have no fear, England has no business scolding you. He's no gentleman, more of a ruffian than you ever were."

"Well, I'm more of a gentleman than you are, you scoundrel."

"Oh, look, the dessert is here." Canada pointed out weakly. The waiter deposited their desserts and fled, knowing well enough to be wary of the familial trio. Effectively distracted from his frustration, England returned to his previous topic.

"So, France, as you were saying… something about Greece?"

"Ah, oui. I just saw him."

"I had gathered as much."

"Well, apparently Japan is ignoring him." France informed them, seeming to savor his words.

"He's probably just busy, Japan has impeccable manners."

"Busy? We saw him but a few short days ago, non?"

"Well, yes. But honestly, why does this matter to me? You are such a gossip!"

"I am just saying that there is something there is all." France's voice was devilish and pleased with itself.

"Something where?" England waved his hands as if to signal the lack of anything in their physical and figurative space. "What in all Hell are we talking about?"

"Are you telling me you have not noticed it?" France let one patronizing eye brow shoot up. Canada swallowed, eyes flitting between his companions in panic.

"Noticed what?" England did not look like he cared, but asked anyway. France enjoyed his position of being in the know and gave himself ample time to bask in it. Canada let out an awkwardly prolonged 'um' noise and attempted to get a place holder in the conversation he wanted desperately to die an immediate and quiet death.

"I…" he began, failing to elicit the attention he needed.

"You really don't, do you?" France continued to taunt his bushy eyed brother.

"I am in trouble!" Canada practically yelled, straining his high whispery voice. Although he thought it would serve his twin right to get his comeuppance (for once), his inner moral compass had a very sharp tip, and when it spun, it spun hard, needling him painfully. He could very rarely defy it.

"Trouble? What sort of trouble?" England's ample brow furrowed. If there was one thing England was, it was paternalistic, whether that was for the best or not, the many nations who had fallen prey to his influence certainly contested.

"Very…" Canada felt his throat tighten in anxiety. "Big trouble."

"Well," France waved an encouraging hand. "What troubles our petit Northern snowflake?"

"Uhh…" Canada bit his lip and squeezed his napkin. _Darn it, why does America always get me into so much trouble?_ "It is hard for to talk about."

"Oh, well. We don't need to discuss it." England offered.

"Of course we must!" France countered. "You are truly heartless, mon frère."

"I'm simply trying to not force your damnable curiosity on the child. He cannot defend himself from the likes of you!"

"Why would he want to defend himself from the likes of me?"

"Well, I really-" Canada tried.

"Oh dear Lord is that what this is? France, did you do something to Canada? Canada, what did France do?"

"Well, he di—"

"Di he touch you?" England shook him wildly, "Did France touch you? Tell me!"

"N-no!" Canada managed to squeak out between shakes.

"Oh." England straightened his tie, "Well then," And took his seat. "What is so hard to discuss?"

"Excuse me, since when is me touching anyone a big problem?"

"Quiet France!"

"Well, you see," Canada began his lie anew, "My..uh..stuffed rabbit is a bit of a bad seed."

France began guffawing almost immediately. "Un lapin? I cannot believe my lovely ears!"

England stifled a laugh in favor of clearing his throat. "Your stuffed rabbit, you say? What's wrong with it?"

"He's, umm, He has odd interests."

"How long has your bunny had interests?" France asked incredulously.

"What do you mean? Canada asked, perplexed.

"Well, toys don't usually have interests."

"Y-Yes, they do. I've never had a stuffy without interests. Everybody has interests."

France continued to snicker, causing England to hit him on the arm.

"Canada," England attempted to sound gentle. " You do know it is odd for them to talk, don't you?"

"What? B-But, you have friends other people don't understand too!" Canada sat forward, now actually invested in the topic.

"My friends are not inanimate objects!" England insisted.

"Hey now," France cooed, flipping his hair, "Maybe you are both just crazy."

* * *

><p>"God Canada, such a spazz." America laughed heartily, but too jovially to be cruelly. "Who sends a basket full of food?" He tossed a muffin up in one hand and caught it in the other. "S'g'd M'ffuhn" He mumbled through a large bite. <em>He probably sent one to Japan too. He's so sensitive, he should learn to lighten up. Or maybe not, since I get treats out of it. I wonder if Japan will be able to eat all the stuff in his. I swear, that guy has a stomach the size of a grape or something. I should text him, he's probably totally freaking out about Canada's wierdness.<em> He pulled out his phone and began to type, one handed, while shoveling more into his mouth as he contemplated how many of the countries in his life really just needed to relax._  
><em>

* * *

><p>Japan had spent the afternoon with his friends contemplating how much information is appropriate to share with those closest to you. His boss was always telling him to try to be more open and connect better to the countries that counted, but that did not mean that was a process that went smoothly for the reclusive Japan.<p>

Looking at Italy's big loving eyes, he thoroughly doubted he would receive any sort of scolding or new distance from him. But Italy, of all nations, was certainly not a good marker for what was appropriate. He did not know what sort of reaction such a confession might elicit from Germany; not a cruel one, of that he was certain, but of all the possible responses, that one's absence was all he was certain of.

He placed a small sugar formed maple leaf on his tongue and did his best to listen to the conversation at hand. He let it dissolve in his mouth and failed to not think about how to explain that you are currently involved in a romance with the United States of America without sounding like an unwise, rash, fool of a country. After much deliberation, nodding when he felt he should nod, and trying to make a socially acceptable amount of eye contact with both of his companions, he decided that, at least for the time being, you simply did not. The tight hug from Italy and the firm pat on the shoulder from Germany he received on his way out the door was all at once a steadying comfort and a reminder of the closeness he risked with such a revelation. After all, it was not as if he made friends very easily, or very often. The ones he had, the real ones with whom the layers upon layers of courtesy he so cherished could be somewhat dropped away, were not to be trifled with, not to be carelessly endangered. The problem was that he was not sure whether disclosure or omission was the threat. He would have to think on it at home. Or at least, that's what he had decided as he departed. However, that is not what he did.

When Japan arrived, he found the country he had sought out soundly asleep on an ancient slab with a perfectly contented feline lightly snoring on his gently rising and falling stomach. Japan sat himself down gingerly next to him and just watched. _Maybe I shall just go, waking him would be rude. But then again, he sleeps far more than he should._ His considerations turned out to be needless as Greece opened one relaxed eye and smiled lazily.

"Hello Japan. It has been a while."

"Greece. It has certainly been a few weeks at least. How have things been?" He inquired, glad his friend had awoken of his own accord.

"Well, things have been a little less busy around here lately."

Japan could not help but wonder when Greece ever truly let his life become busy. He had never witnessed a hectic day for the man.

"I am glad it has not been too chaotic."

Greece simply nodded and closed his eyes in relaxation. Japan sat in silence as the moments passed and he found it more and more likely that his friend had simply fallen back to sleep, as he was known to do. After minutes came and went, and the relaxation Greece was so very good at passing along to others thoroughly set in, Japan suddenly, and without deliberation, took advantage of the situation he had found himself in.

"I am currently engaged in a relatively new but long building same sex country relationship with America, and it makes me very happy, and I thought I should tell someone." Japan breathed a sigh of relief and let his eyes shut and enjoyed having said such a personal thing to someone else (although they could not hear it), free of breach of conduct or consequences, more thankful for Greece's near narcolepsy than he surely had ever been. His peace was promptly shattered by Greece's voice, sounding far more tranquil than it had any right to as it caused Japan such shock.

"Well, I am surprised. It is good to be happy though, you should do what makes you happy more often. Plus, you are far too inexperienced with such matters anyway." The lounging brunette did not bother to open his eyes as he made his statement.

"I-I did not think you were…I shouldn't have…" Japan managed to tense and slouch simultaneously. "I feel so foolish right now Greece. Lately, I have become very bad at choosing when it is wise to speak." He bit his lip and tried to find solace staring at the cloth on his legs when a tan hand came into view and dropped firmly onto his own.

"Japan, you are too stressed. Try not to worry so much, be like a cat."

Japan looked up and was greeted by Greece's calm reassuring smile.

"I think you should talk when you think you shouldn't more often." Greece pat his hand affectionately as he spoke. "You must come here and be relaxed with me when you get so like this, and we will be cats together."

Japan couldn't help but smile at the heart warming invitation.

"Thank you very much. That is very kind, and I will try to do so." He nodded and tentatively placed his own hand over the one covering his other. "You are a good friend."

Greece's smile widened and grew less lazy. "Nekojiro and Nekokichi are the best of friends, remember?"

**A/N2: Sorry if the lack of AmericaxJapan interaction in this chapter was disappointing, but the next chappy will be much more filled with it. Y'all have no idea how relieved I am to finally post a new chapter. When I've gone too long without doing so, it weighs on me. **

** As always, thanks for reading, and the few seconds it takes to leave a comment are greatly appreciated. **


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